THE EDUCATION OF ROSE DAWSON: PART II

Chapter Three

 

Erudition

Rose stepped back out onto the street feeling dissatisfied with her performance in the interview and disheartened that she was not hired, even though it was not her fault that she did not possess the necessary language skills or ties with the local community to win the job. As if to mirror her mood, a light rain had begun to fall, largely emptying out the crowded streets and forcing her to open her umbrella. With no other job interview scheduled for the day, she continued south on Essex Street in the same direction she was headed before she overshot Mr. Anielewicz’s office. She did not know where she was going. Returning to the shelter was the logical choice, but for some reason, she did not want to go back there so soon.

Mr. Anielewicz’s mention of a big steamship accident eight years ago obviously brought back unpleasant memories, but it also made her curious. Which one was that? It must have been very big if Mr. Anielewicz still remembers it as if it happened yesterday. Will my own ordeal still haunt me in eight years?

For a seventeen-year-old young woman, 1920 seemed so far away.

Do not lose hope, Rose. Remember what Miss Howard said. It’s a better day tomorrow.

Some half a dozen blocks later, she saw what appeared to be a library on her left–a four-story Renaissance Revival structure. She turned east on East Broadway, quickly entering the building at its main entrance to escape the rain, and found that she was inside the Seward Park branch of the New York Public Library. The NYPL was an amalgamation of several smaller libraries, including one operated by one of the Astors’ ancestors. The main branch was the one Rose and Miss Howard passed by during their trip to Fifth Avenue the previous week. The Seward Park branch was considerably smaller, but apparently no less popular with the public, judging from the number of people who were inside.


The Seward Park branch (192 E. Broadway) and vicinity circa 1912

After checking her coat and umbrella, she went to look for a seat to read the rest of her copy of the Times. She found one on the second floor, sat down, and began to browse through her paper. For some reason, the mention on the front page of the discovery of the bodies of sixty-four Titanic victims did not cause her to immediately flip to another page. None of them can be Jack’s. I saw him sink into the Atlantic after I let go of his hand. Headlines such as this one were sure to be in the papers for some time to come, so Rose had to learn how to take them in stride. Conquer your fears, she had to remind herself.

Also on the front page was a story about J. Bruce Ismay testifying at a government inquiry into the sinking that he boarded his lifeboat when there were no other women and children around. He claimed to have not been the only man in the lifeboat because a few other men boarded it as well, including four Chinese men whom he later discovered hiding under its seats.

 

Ismay’s mention of the Chinese men made Rose think back to the few hours she spent in her lifeboat, which she shared with one of them. Officer Lowe had rescued him from the water just before he rescued her. Although the Chinese man was dripping wet and freezing like Rose, he did not faint right after being saved – a testament to his luck and stamina. While Rose was too dazed to ponder her preferential treatment at the time, she later regretted it, especially after Jack had already let her have the large, wooden panel to herself. Even though it was considered proper etiquette for a gentleman to defer to a lady when space was at a premium, Rose did not think she was any different from any of the other 1,500 people who were unfortunate enough to be immersed in the freezing Atlantic that night.

 

At daybreak, Rose recognized the Chinese man, even without his glasses, as the same one with whom she and many other steerage passengers were trapped behind a locked gate before Jack, Fabrizio, and Tommy ripped a bench from the floor and used it to ram the gate down. Between then and just after she was pulled aboard the lifeboat, she did not know what happened to him except that he most likely remained on Titanic until it had completely gone under and, like Rose, miraculously survived the icy waters of the Atlantic by floating on a piece of debris. Once aboard the Carpathia, she saw him huddled with his five fellow Chinese survivors. No one had much to say to them, and she did not understand what they said among themselves.

 

 

(L) Chinese man (with glasses) standing behind Rose as Jack calls for the gate to be opened; (R) Same man being picked up by Officer Lowe just before he picks up Rose

 

Rose recalled a conversation she had with Amy Stanley about the Chinese during a lull when Mrs. Abbott managed to fall asleep and did not require the company of either woman. Miss Stanley was indignant over finding that half a dozen of them had survived, while so many other men, women, and children perished.

 

“I heard some of them rushed the lifeboats and refused to get out, even after the ship’s officers threatened to shoot them. But the officers were afraid of hitting the women and children, so they let them remain on the boats. Then they hid under the seats.”

 

“Are you sure, Miss Stanley? It did not seem very roomy down there.”

 

“Well, that’s what I heard, Rose. And seeing how small a few of them are, I don’t think it was too hard for them to crawl under.”

 

Rose had never had much interaction with Chinese people, but to hear Miss Stanley liken them to some form of troglodytical lowlife seemed hard to believe. That compelled her to challenge her new friend by saying something on behalf of all Titanic passengers and crew who tried desperately to survive after having been denied a seat in a lifeboat, with most failing in the end.

 

“Suppose the rumor is true. If some of them really hid under the seats, that would mean none of them occupied a seat that could have gone to a woman or child, right? Besides, most boats were launched before they filled up, some at less than half their capacity. That was not the fault of the Chinese.”

 

“Hmm, maybe you have a point. But it’s so unfair when so many better men could have lived!”

 

“The Chinese are not the only men alive right now. Where is Mr. Ismay at this moment, if not hiding in his cabin? Would you call him a better man?”

 

“Certainly not.”

 

“Exactly, Miss Stanley. Not all of the Chinese who survived made it to a lifeboat before the ship foundered. One of them was rescued from the water just before I. Does he not deserve to live? Surely he is a better man than a few others who survived.”

 

“I…I see, Rose. Maybe I was too hasty in my judgment. Anyone who can survive those freezing waters deserves to live…and my respect.”

 

Among the “few others who survived” was Cal. In fact, most of the women survivors seemed to have cast a less critical eye on him than on Ismay when the latter boarded the Carpathia. Rose found that to be extremely unjust for Ismay because for all his vanity, he at least did not try to murder anyone. Cal, on the other hand, was a monster in the guise of a gentleman. But Rose could not disclose her relationship with these people to Miss Stanley lest she disclose her true identity.

 

As for the Chinese, Rose did not recall seeing them disembark at Pier 54 on the evening of the 18th. She did not think much of it at the time, since she had to deal with more important matters. Now, she wondered if they had even set foot on New York. The six men had also become the subject of conversation among other survivors on board the Carpathia, and the prevailing word was that they were seamen on their way to their next assignment.

"Well, I didn’t expect to see you down here, Rose," a voice whispered on the right.

Rose turned that way and saw that it was Amsterdam standing before her. "Amsterdam. How are you today? How is your nose feeling?"

"Never felt better. I think the trickster actually did me a favor by clearing up my sinuses. What are you doing this far downtown?"

"I attended a job interview on Essex Street, but it was unsuccessful."

"Those things can be really unpleasant. I should know," said Amsterdam.

"My interviewer was not too hard on me," said Rose, as she recalled watching Mr. Anielewicz’s sudden display of emotion. "Where is Jenny?"

"She’s upstairs on the top floor. Let’s go find her."

They went to the top floor to find Jenny sitting down reading a magazine. She smiled when she saw Rose. "What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here, Rose?"

Rose smiled back. "Good morning, Jenny. I was at a job interview, but no luck. How are you feeling today?"

"A lot better, I think. You just keep trying, my dear. And be patient. You’ll find something."

"I hope so, Jenny. Do the two of you come to the library often?"

"Sometimes. I never had much chance to use one when I was your age, while Amsterdam did most of his reading at the Hellgate House of Reform on Blackwell’s Island. He actually reads better than me."

Rose looked at Amsterdam curiously. "Reform? What did you need to reform about yourself?"

"My peacemaking skills," said Amsterdam in partial jest. He cupped his right fist with his left hand. "I put them to good use yesterday, wouldn’t you agree?"

Jenny rolled her eyes at this mix of braggadocio and sarcasm, while Rose gave Amsterdam an amused grin. "You are a belligerent one," she said, "but you were right to behave that way yesterday." Then she turned and looked at the large number of people using the library. "This branch must be a popular place."

"Libraries are always popular when the weather is bad," said Jenny. She looked out the window. "The rain seems to be letting up. Would you like to join us for lunch, Rose?"

"I think that would be a good idea."

Chapter Four

Stories