COLORS OF THE WIND
Chapter Eight
Atlantic Ocean
Spring, 1607
The sun was setting over the Atlantic as Jack
and Rose leaned on the rail, gazing out at the ocean. They stood in quiet
companionship, each enjoying the presence of the other.
"So what did you do then?" Rose
asked, continuing a conversation begun a few minutes before.
"Well, after herding sheep got to be too
much like work, I went up to the North Sea in Scotland and worked as a
fisherman. And after that, I went to London and made drawings for a penny each.
I could make ten pennies in a day sometimes."
"A whole ten pennies?" Rose raised
an eyebrow.
Jack didn’t understand. "Yes. It was
great. But that only worked in the summer. In the winter I had to find
something else to do."
Rose was silent for a moment, staring out to
sea. "Why can’t I be like you, Jack? Just head out for the horizon
whenever I feel like it? Say we’ll go to those places sometimes, even if we
only ever just talk about it."
"No, we’ll do it. We’ll go out on a boat
in the North Sea and catch fish, and then go to London and see how the poorer
people live. We’ll even go riding out in the country. But you’ll have to do it
like a man—none of that sidesaddle stuff."
Rose was scandalized. "Oh…can you show
me?"
"Sure."
"Teach me to ride like a man…"
"And swim like a man…"
"And…and spit like a man!"
"What…ladies don’t know how to do
that?"
"No." Rose laughed.
"Come on. I’ll show you." He
grabbed her hand and dragged her down the deck a ways, away from prying eyes.
"Jack…no!" Rose resisted. "I
couldn’t possibly, Jack!"
"Like this!" He demonstrated,
spitting into the ocean.
"That’s disgusting!" Rose grinned,
then tried it herself. Most of it ran down her chin.
"That was pitiful! You have to do it
like this." Jack demonstrated again. "See the distance on that
thing?"
Rose nodded, and was about to try it again
when someone cleared their throat behind them. They turned quickly, Rose wiping
her chin.
"Mother! What are you doing out
here?"
"I came to take the air." Ruth
stared at Jack as though he was some vermin that she would like to crush.
"Well…ah…Mother, may I introduce Jack
Dawson?"
Ruth looked coldly at him. "Charmed, I’m
sure." Ignoring Jack, she turned to Rose. "Honestly, Rose. How many
times do Cal and I have to warn you to stay off the deck?"
"But you’re here."
"Rose…don’t argue with me. It’s almost
time for dinner. You need to get changed."
Rose sighed reluctantly, but then,
remembering that Jack was coming to dinner, turned back to him and smiled.
"See you at dinner, Jack."
Ruth sighed and grabbed Rose’s arm, hustling
her daughter along the deck. Rose looked back once and waved to him before Ruth
shoved her inside.
Jack stared after them. He liked Rose, but he
wasn’t sure he was looking forward to dinner.