Yes, I know it.
I know that newspapers are going to judge the ones like me.
I know that along with all the other feelings I’m going to see hatred and contempt in people's eyes.
I know I deserve to see it.
I know I should have stayed there.
I know I should never have let Rose go.
I know I should have never taken that gun.
I know I shouldn't have boarded that friggin' ship.
Titanic, Titanic, Titanic. Ship of Dreams, as I've read the description in some article in some cheap magazine. Screw you, Ship of Dreams. You've taken my money, my prestige, even my guard. I'm not the one to blame Lovejoy, but if he had moved his legs faster, he could...damn...
And the most important thing, Ship of Dreams, is that you've taken my Rose.
Now I'm staying on board Carpathia, left with nothing and wondering how I must live my already wasted life now.
Saved passengers around me are asking, yelling, crying. They still have hope to find their relatives, beloveds, friends. They still believe.
I know my belief has died during the previous cold night spent among the icebergs. My hope to meet Rose is dead.
Rose?
It's...it's her. I would recognize her hair, her figure among the millions of the women with the same hair and she is hiding, she doesn't want to be seen...
And she's alone. Is Dawson…?
No, I won't be able to come to her, to speak to her. The period of my life named Rose DeWitt Bukater is over, as well as the period in her life named Cal Hockley.
Or maybe I'm just too timid. Or selfish.
All right, Rose. I say good-bye this time. Now we will leave for ourselves, not desiring to kill each other. Moreover, I still don't see Dawson here. Perhaps, in a minute, he will appear, take your hand, and you will smile at him...
Walking in the direction from her, I can feel her gaze on my back. Fine. Now you see me, too. I know what you're probably thinking, Rose.
You're an asshole, Caledon Hockley.
And you're undoubtedly right, my dear Rose.
The End.