TITANIC: A STORY TOLD
Chapter Twelve
"We're ridin' 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!"