59 INT. PALM COURT RESTAURANT - DAY

CLOSE ON J. BRUCE ISMAY, Managing Director of White Star Line.

WIDER, showing the group assembled for lunch the next day. Ismay seated with Cal, Rose, Ruth, Molly Brown and Thomas Andrews in the Palm Court, a beautiful sunny spot enclosed by high arched windows.

(he slaps the table) ...willed into solid reality.

(they all laugh) Just another example of the men settin' the rules their way.

(to Rose, after the waiter moves away) You like lamb, don't you sweetpea?

(turning to Ismay) Hey, who came up with the name Titanic? You, Bruce?

60 EXT. POOP DECK / AFTER DECKS - DAY

Jack sits on a bench in the sun. Titanic's wake spreads out behind him to the horizon. He has his knees pulled up, supporting a leather bound sketching pad, his only valuable possession. With conte crayon he draws rapidly, using sure strokes. An emigrant from Manchester named CARTMELL has his 3 year old daughter CORA standing on the lower rung of the rail. She is leaned back against his beer barrel of a stomach, watching the seagulls.

THE SKETCH captures them perfectly, with a great sense of the humanity of the moment. Jack is good. Really good. Fabrizio looks over Jack's shoulder. He nods appreciatively.

TOMMY RYAN, a scowling young Irish emigrant, watches as a crewmember comes by, walking three small dogs around the deck. One of them, a BLACK FRENCH BULLDOG, is among the ugliest creatures on the planet.

CLOSE ON JACK, unable to take his eyes off of her. They are across from each other, about 60 feet apart, with the well deck like a valley between them. She on her promontory, he on his much lower one. She stares down at the water.

He watches her unpin her elaborate hat and take it off. She looks at the frilly absurd thing, then tosses it over the rail. It sails far down to the water and is carried away, astern. A spot of yellow in the vast ocean. He is riveted by her. She looks like a figure in a romantic novel, sad and isolated.

Fabrizio taps Tommy and they both look at Jack gazing at Rose. Fabrizio and Tommy grin at each other.

Rose turns suddenly and looks right at Jack. He is caught staring, but he doesn't look away. She does, but then looks back. Their eyes meet across the space of the well deck, across the gulf between worlds.

Jack sees a man (Cal) come up behind her and take her arm. She jerks her arm away. They argue in pantomime. She storms away, and he goes after her, disappearing along the A-deck promenade. Jack stares after her.

61 INT. FIRST CLASS DINING SALOON - NIGHT

SLOWLY PUSHING IN ON ROSE as she sits, flanked by people in heated conversation. Cal and Ruth are laughing together, while on the other side LADY DUFF-GORDON is holding forth animatedly. We don't hear what they are saying. Rose is staring at her plate, barely listening to the inconsequential babble around her.

CUT TO:

62 INT. CORRIDOR / B DECK - NIGHT

Rose walks along the corridor. A steward coming the other way greets her, and she nods with a slight smile. She is perfectly composed.

CUT TO:

63 INT. ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

She enters the room. Stands in the middle, staring at her reflection in the large vanity mirror. Just stands there, then--

With a primal, anguished cry she claws at her throat, ripping off her pearlnecklace, which explodes across the room. In a frenzy she tears at herself, her clothes, her hair... then attacks the room. She flings everything off the dresser and it flies clattering against the wall. She hurls a handmirror against the vanity, cracking it.

CUT TO:

64 EXT. A DECK PROMENADE, AFT - NIGHT

Rose runs along the B deck promenade. She is dishevelled, her hair flying. She is crying, her cheeks streaked with tears. But also angry, furious! Shaking with emotions she doesn't understand... hatred, self-hatred, desperation. A strolling couple watch her pass. Shocked at the emotional display in public.

CUT TO:

65 EXT. POOP DECK - NIGHT

Jack is kicked back on one of the benches gazing at the stars blazing gloriously overhead. Thinking artist thoughts and smoking a cigarette.

Hearing something, he turns as Rose runs up the stairs from the well deck. They are the only two on the stern deck, except for QUARTERMASTER ROWE, twenty feet above them on the docking bridge catwalk. She doesn't see Jack in the shadows, and runs right past him.

TRACKING WITH ROSE as she runs across the deserted fantail. Her breath hitches in an occasional sob, which she suppresses. Rose slams against the base of the stern flagpole and clings there, panting. She stares out at the black water.

Then starts to climb over the railing. She has to hitch her long dress way up, and climbing is clumsy. Moving methodically she turns her body and gets her heels on the white-painted gunwale, her back to the railing, facing out toward blackness. 60 feet below her, the massive propellers are churning the atlantin into white foam, and a ghostly wake trails off toward the horizon.

IN A LOW ANGLE, we see Rose standing like a figurehead in reverse. Below her are the huge letters of the name "TITANIC".

She leans out, her arms straightening... looking down hypnotized, into the vortex below her. Her dress and hair are lifted by the wind of the ship'smovement. The only sound, above the rush of water below, is the flutter and snap of the big Union Jack right above her.

(takes off his other shoe) Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here.

She plunges, letting out a piercing SHRIEK. Jack, gripping her hand, is jerked toward the rail. Rose barely grabs a lower rail with her free hand.

QUARTERMASTER ROWE, up on the docking bridge hears the scream and heads for the ladder.

Jack, awkwardly clutching Rose by whatever he can get a grip on as she flails, gets her over the railing. They fall together onto the deck in a tangled heap, spinning in such a way that Jack winds up slightly on top of her.

Rowe slides down the ladder from the docking bridge like it's a fire drill and sprints across the fantail.

(to the seamen) Fetch the Master at Arms.

66 EXT. POOP DECK - NIGHT

A few minutes later. Jack is being detained by the burly MASTER AT ARMS, the closest thing to a cop on board. He is handcuffing Jack. Cal is right in front of Jack, and furious. He has obviously just rushed out here with Lovejoy and another man, and none of them have coats over their black tie evening dress. The other man is COLONEL ARCHIBALD GRACIE, a mustachioed blowhard who still has his brandy snifter. He offers it to Rose, who is hunched over crying on a bench nearby, but she waves it away. Cal is more concerned with Jack. He grabs him by the lapels.

(Rose looks at Jack, getting eye contact)

I was leaning way over, to see the... ah... propellers. And I slipped and I would have gone overboard... and Mr. Dawson here saved me and he almost went over himself.

(to Cal) So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?

(to Jack) Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow, to regale our group with your heroic tale?

Interesting that the young lady slipped so mighty all of a sudden and you still had time to take of your jacket and shoes. Mmmm?

CUT TO:

67 INT. ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

As she undresses for bed Rose sees Cal standing in her doorway, reflected in the cracked mirror of her vanity. He comes toward her.