SAVE ALL WHO DARE THE EAGLE’S FLIGHT
Chapter Ten

As the afternoon wore on, I noted with growing unease that Jack was still gone. It even distracted me to the point where I was starting to lose at blackjack, and not of my own volition. This made the three men I was playing with extremely happy.

"I told you I’d go easy on you," I teased Tommy while trying to hide the fact that I was concerned for Jack. I knew he would be fine; we were on a ship, after all. There were only so many places he could have been. It’s not like something bad could have happened to him. Not to mention that he was in the company of that first class lady—surely nothing would happen to him. I hoped.

Luckily, my despair was ended by Tommy, who, at mid-afternoon, declared that he had had enough of playing cards and did I want to come with him to see what Jack and "the pretty fiery-haired lass from first class" were up to. We brought Fabrizio with us, which I think Tommy started to regret before long; Fabrizio kept going on and on about Helga, the pretty blonde.

"But she doesn’t speak English, does she?" Tommy finally snapped as we walked on the deck, keeping our eyes peeled for red hair.

"No, she’s Norwegian," Fabrizio answered, obviously not getting it.

"Aw, shut it, Tommy. I think it’s sweet," I said. And I did; it was adorable how two people who didn’t understand each other were still attempting to get to know one another. They both went out of their way just to learn the other’s names. Now, tell me that isn’t sweet.

"Women," Tommy muttered. I decided to let it go; he had run out of cigarettes, and the rest of them were in his cabin. It was odd, seeing him without a cigarette. In fact, he looked like a different person entirely. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. A moment later, Tommy’s hand shot out and gripped my arm. A look to my right confirmed that he had done the same to Fabrizio.

"What?" I asked stupidly.

Tommy nodded his head up to the first class decks. I looked in the direction his eyes were pointed and saw Jack and the red-headed girl strolling along and talking as if they were old friends. This was just…odd. Naturally, the three of us wanted a better look, so we inched closer to them until we were standing by the gate separating third and second class.

"D’you think we can get in?" I asked.

Fabrizio frowned. "Well, if Jack a-can, we should a-be able to."

"But Jack is with that rich girl," Tommy noted. "The stewards probably aren’t allowed to argue with people like her, so they let him go."

"Well, it’s a-worth a try," Fabrizio said stubbornly, heading towards the gate. It was just our luck that a steward walked down the deck at that moment and spotted us near the gate.

"Shite," Tommy hissed, falling back and leaning against the railing near the gate as if he had been there this whole time. Fabrizio and I imitated him, praying the steward would ignore us. He didn’t. Instead, he remained planted in that spot and eyed us suspiciously for a long, long time.

"Should we go?" I asked in a low voice so that he wouldn’t hear me.

Tommy shook his head, smirking. "Nah—I want to have some fun. Lookit him. He’s gettin’ mad."

Sure enough, the steward was looking positively furious. We were so close to the gate that it looked as if we might try something, but we weren’t actually past the gate, so he couldn’t reprimand us. And you know, it was amusing to watch his face go red and his fists clench and unclench as he watched us. Sometimes Tommy scooted down the railing an inch or two so that he was closer to the gate. This made the steward open his mouth as if to snap at him before he closed it, knowing he wasn’t allowed to shout at him. This went on for almost half an hour--or what felt like it, at least--before he finally cracked and snarled at us, "Will you kindly move away from the gate?!"

"But no one’s usin’ it," Tommy pointed out innocently.

"I…that is completely beside the point! Now, please leave before I am forced to summon the Master-at-Arms!" the flustered steward snapped.

"But, sir, we aren’t disturbing anyone," I said, taking up the innocent, wide-eyed act I had so often employed against vendors in Europe.

"You…oh, damn it all!" the steward growled, storming away irritably.

We had a good long laugh about it as we traipsed back to the public room. Tommy dealt Fabrizio and me cards and made me play poker. I suppose I could have always walked away instead of playing, but I had no real inclination to leave—there was little else to do on the ship. The atmosphere was light, as it always was, but the noticeable absence of one particular person soon wormed its way into my thoughts. Jack still had not returned from his leisurely promenade with the red-headed duchess. I twisted and turned in my seat every now and then, scanning the room in case I had missed him earlier, but to no avail; Jack was gone. The jealous part of me scathingly wondered what on earth that air-headed idiot could possibly say to keep Jack so long. My constant fidgeting finally drew some attention.

"Angie, if yeh can’t sit still, maybe yeh should go for a walk," Tommy said tonelessly, frowning at his hand.

"I’m fine!" I snapped. "I just don’t like this game."

"Because you a-lose," Fabrizio said cheekily, grinning so widely that I saw his teeth. "That is a-why we like a-to play it with a-you."

"Ma vaffanculo," I returned, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

"And you are a pazzo puttana," he said without missing a beat.

"I am not, you figlio di puttana!"

"Yer both nuts, is what yeh are," Tommy muttered, scowling at his hand. "Damn it."

*****

By the time the bugles signaling the first class dinner sounded, I had excused myself several times to see where Jack was. It was a very good thing that the lads knew better than to question a woman’s reasons for temporarily seeking privacy; I was able to wander about and look for Jack for a good five minutes every now and then before returning to the card game, where Tommy and Fabrizio pretended as if they were not imagining just why I had to leave so often. We girls were cursed by Eve and the proverbial apple, but sometimes we can use it to our advantage.

Jack was not to be found on any of my hurried excursions. I fiddled with my silverware and toyed with my food all during dinner, my stomach being gnawed by an all-consuming envy of the fairy who had put a spell on my Jack. I could just barely muster up some faint happiness for Fabrizio when he sat beside Helga, the both of them talking in a sort of improvised language while her parents eyed them like a mother cow defensively watching the children in Barcelona playing with her calf. I had seen more than one child screaming, "Diablo!" as they ran from an angry cow; I hoped Fabrizio would not have to do the same. Although the image of Fabrizio screaming, "Diablo!" and running from a cow with Olaf Dahl’s face did make me a chuckle the slightest bit.

I would have been content to sit quietly throughout dinner and then retreat to the cabin when the party started up, but Emmy noticed my taciturnity and gently laid a warm hand on my own as my finger lightly ran over the silver tongs of my fork.

"Is everything all right, dear?" she asked me softly so that we wouldn’t draw the attention of the others.

I forced a smile. "I’m fine…just…" I figured that I could tell Emmy the truth—or at least part of it. "I’m just a little worried about Jack. He hasn’t come back yet."

"Ah," Emmy said, nodding in understanding. "Yes, Cora was asking about him. I heard he was spirited away by the most beautiful first class princess; is it true?"

This again. I nodded as I twirled some corn around on the plate. "Yes—she was a first class girl, maybe around my age, with red hair and a yellow dress. She called him Mr. Dawson, so I assume they know each other somehow."

Emmy looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Was it the girl he was talking about at breakfast this morning?"

I nodded again, feeling sick to my stomach. It was her. I hadn’t really given it much thought, but…it was the girl in a green dress he had been ogling the day we met Tommy. "I think so. Maybe…maybe he wasn’t pulling our legs this morning."

Emmy looked thoughtful again. "It’s unusual, but not entirely impossible. I suppose we’ll just have to sit him down and have a nice long chat with him once he gets back."

"I couldn’t agree more," I said truthfully. Emmy’s perpetually cheery disposition had settled my unease until it had mostly ebbed away. I was able to laugh as Tommy and Jim entered into a battle of insults, but only after I made sure they knew that there were children present and certain insults were best saved for later. The blackberry cobbler for dessert was the best I had yet sampled, and this, too, improved my mood. I was still anxious for Jack’s return, but I tried to at least enjoy myself as much as I could.

Before the slower diners could scrape their plates, the dishes and silverware were cleared away by stewards and some of the tables pushed to the side. Eugene Daly and his same band members collected themselves in a corner, starting to warm up their instruments. A few people--myself included, I’ll admit--rushed to the water closets so that we wouldn’t have to miss anything tonight. When I sprinted back into the dining room, the makeshift band was striking up a tune, their synchronization slightly off from not having played all day. As the dance went on, however, they fell into the same rhythm as if they had been born to do it. Maybe they had been.

"You will dance with me, won’t you, Angie?" Timmy asked hopefully once he had found me.

"Of course, Timmy!" I said, resting my left hand on his right shoulder and catching his left hand with my right. He laughed loudly as we took off, as did I—it never got old for either of us. His sweet little grin was enough to take my mind off of Jack, at least for the moment. Predictably, he tired after two dances and asked to sit down and watch the lads play cards again. And once again, predictably, the lads were playing poker, sitting in almost the exact same chairs they had sat in the previous few nights. Except for Fabrizio, that is; he was twirling a bright-eyed, flushing Helga around the room.

"What’s the game, boys?" I asked, pulling up a chair and letting Timmy settle into my lap.

"Poker," Tommy said gruffly through his cigarette.

"Don’t you lot ever play anything else?" I asked. So far, I had only ever seen them play poker and blackjack. There was no variety.

"Well, we’re at a bit of a disadvantage, given the language barrier," Tommy said, gesturing to the two Swedes.

"That’s true," I agreed, taking a swig of his beer.

Presently, Fabrizio came to the table, leading a beaming Helga by the hand.

"Everyone, this is Helga!" he announced, looking as proud as a small boy who has managed to catch a frog. "Helga, this is Angie, Timmy, Tommy, Bjorn, and Olaus," he added, pointing to each of us in turn.

"Pull up a chair," I suggested before I turned to Tommy. "Get us some beers, would ya?"

He threw down his cards as Bjorn and Olaus hooted; obviously, he had lost. "Fine," he grumbled as he heaved himself out of his chair. "’S not like I have anything better ter do."

"Aren’t you just a little bundle of sunshine?"

Tommy retorted by pinching my ear.

Bjorn asked Helga something which I had now taken to mean, "Do you speak any Swedish?" Or something to that effect.

Helga shook her head, seeming to understand at least part of what he was saying. "Nei; Norwegian."

The Gundersons looked a little disappointed that their new acquaintance was yet another person who couldn’t understand them, but they lit up at once as Tommy returned with the beers.

"Why do grown-ups always drink that stuff?" Timmy wanted to know.

"Because it tastes good," I said simply. "To adults," I added, not wanting to give him any ideas.

Tommy looked stunned. "Because, me boy, beer ‘tis the sweet, sweet nectar from the heavens above. ‘Tis the finest thing man has ever made, including this here ship. We Irishmen are suckled on it as wee babes and we die on it as old farts who piss ‘emselves. That, Timmy McFarland, is why we drink it."

Helga and the Gundersons, who understood none of this monologue, merely blinked at Tommy’s impassioned expression. Fabrizio, Timmy, and I stared at him. Fabrizio’s mouth was actually hanging open.

"I do believe that was the single most poetic thing I’ve ever heard you say, Tommy," I said after a moment, once I had regained my faculties.

"’Tis what the beer does ter me, ‘tis," Tommy replied smugly, grinning as he swigged from his glass of dark beer.

"It also thickens your tongue and mixes up your mind until you’re a blithering idiot, and then, if you drink too much of it, it gives you a hell—it gives you a nasty headache and makes you sick," I added, correcting myself so that Timmy would not be exposed to even more language than he was already forced to endure.

"I want to try some," Timmy said promptly.

I bit my lip. "I’m not sure that’s such a great idea, Timmy."

"Why not?" he pouted.

"Well…because it’s…it’s sort of a grown-up drink, Timmy. It might make you sick. I was sick the first time I drank beer," I said delicately.

"Yeh were?" Tommy snorted.

"Sì; she a-slept for almost the whole a-next day," Fabrizio nodded, momentarily breaking away from his attempt at conversation with Helga.

Tommy sniggered. I scowled at him.

"Angie, can’t I have some? Just a little bit?" Timmy begged. "I won’t tell Mommy, I promise!"

It took only five minutes before I caved in. Well, honestly; he had his lower lip jutting out and quivering, and his eyes were wide and hopeful, and he just…he was so adorable. And I melted like the sap that I am. The lads looked on excitedly, pounding the table as a sort of drum-roll as I held up the class for Timmy to take a small sip, praying Kathleen never found out about this. He had barely let the dark liquid touch his lips before I jerked it away.

"That’s quite enough for you, mister. Well, how was it?" I asked, setting down the glass.

His screwed-up face was answer enough for me. The lads roared with laughter, banging their fists on the table and clapping each other on the back. Even Helga was laughing.

"That was horrible! How do you drink that awful stuff?!" Timmy sputtered. "That’s almost as bad as cod liver oil!"

Tommy twitched involuntarily at the mention of the awful stuff.

"What did I miss?"

We turned to look at Jack and our mouths promptly fell open. He was almost unrecognizable--his blond hair was slicked back and he was in a damned tuxedo. He looked like a damned swell. His blue eyes danced as he watched our reactions. The moment was promptly ruined when Tommy burst into loud, raucous peals of laughter. "Yeh look like a bleedin’ dandy!"

Tommy’s laughter ceased instantaneously, however, when the red-headed princess appeared from behind Jack. She was…incredible, to say the very least. Her pink dress, covered by a bejeweled, black sheer layer, glimmered over her, giving her dress a reddish color and making her seem even more majestic, something I had thought to be impossible. Her hair was done up again, this time with an ornate decoration of sorts studded with gems. She was positively dripping with jewels and would look like a queen if not for her hesitant demeanor. So the little duchess was nervous around us low life scum. Good.

"Well, so did most of my…ah…dinner-mates. Fellas, this is Rose," Jack said calmly, pulling her gently forward by a gloved hand and displaying her to all of us. "Rose, this is Angie Marshall, Timmy McFarland, Tommy Ryan, Fabrizio di Rossi…uh…Helga, I think, and Bjorn and Olaus Gunderson."

We stared at her and she stared at us, although she, at least, could keep her mouth closed. The rest of us, I’m sure, looked rather ridiculous. I’m not quite sure what the others were thinking, but a thousand different things were running through my head. I registered shock. And then the jealousy came. Jack was spellbound by the creature. Yes, creature. That was all she was. A witch who had ensnared an innocent mind for her own selfish purposes. She would break Jack’s heart when this voyage was over; I knew that right then and there. But I couldn’t warn Jack just yet; the enchantment was still fresh. I had to wait until it had dulled down a little.

Jack coughed, obviously sensing the awkwardness of the whole situation. "Well…"

"I can’t find the bloomin’ angels," Tommy said seriously.

I very attractively choked on my beer as I laughed, causing the two Gundersons to gallantly thump me on the back and for Timmy to leap off of my lap and ask me loudly if I was all right. What a wonderful first impression I must have made on Rose. Tommy winked at me once I had recovered, and I can’t really blame him for being in such a good mood; if someone found one of my jokes so amusing that they choked on their beer, I would be rather happy as well.

"So…can we pull up some chairs?" Jack asked, clearing his throat. I hiccupped and then giggled. Apparently, I had had more beer than I thought.

"Uh…sure," Tommy said cautiously, reaching behind him and pulling over two chairs. Rose--what a sweet name for such a vile creature--sat down hesitantly, acting like a bird that had spotted a potential predator nearby and was unsure of whether or not it should flee just yet. Jack was completely at ease, of course, shrugging off his jacket--somehow, I doubted very much that it was his jacket--and running his fingers through his slicked-back hair until it was restored to its normal state.

"What in the bloody hell happened ter you?" Tommy asked Jack. Then he turned to Rose. "Oh, beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am."

Damn him.

"Oh, no, I don’t mind," Rose said in her charming, melodic voice.

"Nice, Tommy," Jack said sarcastically, grinning as he took a swig of Bjorn’s beer. "Well, a saint from heaven lent me her son’s suit so that I could have dinner in first class, like I told you this morning."

"Shit, you really did it," I gasped. I didn’t turn to apologize to Rose as Tommy had; I wasn’t going to apologize to the woman who had taken Jack away from me for so long. And what the hell did she think she was doing down here, anyway? If she wanted to slum, she should have at least dressed down a bit. Her jewels and exotic clothes made her stand out like a sore thumb. Or, as Tommy would later laugh, "The rose between the thorns." Bloody prick.

"Yes, Angie, I did," Jack said calmly, winking at Rose. She nervously returned the smile and started to pull off her gloves, one finger at a time. I started to look away when a very noticeable something glinted from her hand and flashed in my peripheral vision.

"Whoa; look at the size of that rock!" I declared, whistling—for Rose had a ring the size of Texas and then some on her finger. So she was engaged. That relieved me a bit; at least she wouldn’t be romantically inclined towards Jack, not if she had a fiancé. That still didn’t mean I was going to like her, though.

"So, how were the swells?" Tommy asked. "’Scuse me, ma’am."

"It’s fine, really," Rose said meekly. Her hesitance irked me. No; her very presence irked me. I could see that Jack was infatuated with her, and jealousy consumed me. I was absolutely pea-green with envy. I knew at the time that I was being childish in my emotions, but they were just that--emotions. They were mine and mine alone; no one else knew how I felt, so I could feel whatever way I wanted to without being chastised for being cold and unfeeling. I know; it sounds stupid and childish. But at the moment, they were entirely serious to me.

"Uh…they weren’t bad," Jack said carefully, his eyes continually flitting to Rose. "Some of ‘em were real good folks."

I raised an eyebrow, debated over whether or not I should make a sarcastic comment, decided against it, and closed my mouth.

"Helga, you come a-dance with a-me now?" Fabrizio asked Helga, standing up and gesturing wildly until she understood and nodded, taking his hand and following him into the whirl of color and sound.

"I want to dance, too," I declared, hopping to my feet and looking expectantly at Timmy; he never turned me down.

"I don’t want to dance yet," Timmy complained, his eyes fixed firmly on an oblivious Rose. This was new. Obviously, he was just as entranced by her as the others.

Bjorn got up and said something in Swedish, but I didn’t need to worry about the language barrier; he held out a hand to me and jerked his head at the dance floor. I grinned at him and tugged him out to the middle of the floor, hopping into the dance as soon as possible. He complied easily, laughing at my enthusiasm. I wondered if he knew that I wanted to get away from Rose—nobody else at the table was moving.

I wasn’t going to worry about Princess Rose just now. Maybe she was like a bee or an animal begging for food; if I ignored her, she would go away in time. Oh, if only that were the case.

Chapter Eleven
Stories