TITANIC: A STORY TOLD
Chapter Thirty-Four
In the west, the sky was purple, shot with
orange. Strains of classical music drifted through the air. Jack walked along
the deck. He looked dashing in his borrowed white-tie outfit, right down to his
pearl studs.
A steward bowed and smartly opened the door
to the First Class Entrance.
"Good evening, sir."
Jack played the role smoothly. He nodded with
just the right degree of disdain.
Jack stepped in and his breath was taken away
by the splendor spread out before him. Overhead was the enormous glass dome,
with a crystal chandelier at its center. Sweeping down six stories was the
First Class Grand Staircase, the epitome of the opulent naval architecture of
the time.
And the people: the women in their floor
length dresses, elaborate hairstyles, and abundant jewelry...the gentlemen in
evening dress, standing with one hand at the small of the back, talking
quietly.
Jack descended to A deck. Several men nodded
a perfunctory greeting. He nodded back, keeping it simple. He felt like a spy.
Cal came down the stairs, with Ruth on his
arm, covered in jewelry. They both walked right past Jack, neither one
recognizing him. Cal nodded at him, one gent to another. But Jack barely had
time to be amused. Because just behind Cal and Ruth on the stairs was Rose, a
vision in red and black, her low-cut dress showing off her neck and shoulders,
her arms sheathed in white gloves that came well above the elbow. Jack was
hypnotized by her beauty.
Rose approached Jack. He imitated the
gentlemen’s stance, hand behind his back. She extended her gloved hand and he
took it, kissing the backs of her fingers. Rose flushed, beaming noticeably.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
"I saw that in a nickelodeon once, and I
always wanted to do it."
"Cal, surely you remember Mr.
Dawson."
Cal was caught off guard. "Dawson! I
didn’t recognize you." He studied him. "Amazing! You could almost
pass for a gentleman."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Almost."
The party descended to dinner in the
reception room on D deck. They encountered Molly Brown, looking good in a
beaded dress, in her own busty broad-shouldered way. Molly grinned when she saw
Jack. As they were going into the dining saloon she walked next to him,
speaking low.
"Ain’t nothin’ to it, is there,
Jack?"
"Yeah, you just dress like a pallbearer
and keep your nose up."
"Remember, the only thing they respect
is money, so just act like you’ve got a lot of it and you’re in the club."
As they entered the swirling throng, Rose
leaned close to him, pointing out several notables.
"There’s the Countess Rothes. And that’s
John Jacob Astor...the richest man on the ship. His little wifey there,
Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate condition. See how she’s trying to hide
it? Quite the scandal." She nodded toward a couple. "And over there,
that’s Sir Cosmo and Lucile, Lady Duff-Gordon. She designs naughty lingerie,
among her many talents. Very popular with the royals."
Cal became engrossed in a conversation with
Cosmo Duff-Gordon and Colonel Gracie, while Ruth, the Countess, and Lucile discussed
fashion. Rose pivoted Jack smoothly, to show him another couple, dressed
impeccably.
"And that’s Benjamin Guggenheim and his
mistress, Madame Aubert. Mrs. Guggenheim is at home with the children, of
course."
Cal, meanwhile, was accepting the praise of
his male counterparts, who were looking at Rose like a prize show horse.
"Hockley, she is splendid."
"Thank you."
"Cal’s a lucky man. I know him well, and
it can only be luck."
Ruth stepped over, hearing the last. She took
Cal’s arm, somewhat coquettishly.
"How can you say that, Colonel? Caledon
Hockley is a great catch."
The entourage strolled toward the dining
saloon, where they ran into the Astors going through the ornate double doors.
"J.J., Madeleine, I’d like you to meet
Jack Dawson."
Astor shook Jack’s hand. "Good to meet
you, Jack. Are you of the Boston Dawsons?"
"No, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons,
actually."
J.J. nodded as if he’d heard of them, then
looked puzzled. Madeleine Astor appraised Jack and whispered girlishly to Rose.
"It’s a pity we’re both spoken for,
isn’t it?"
The dining saloon was like a ballroom at the
palace, alive and lit by a constellation of chandeliers, full of elegantly
dressed people and beautiful music from bandleader Wallace Hartley’s small
orchestra. Rose and Jack entered and moved across the room to their table, Cal
and Ruth beside them.
Jack must have been nervous, but he never
faltered. They assumed he was one of them...heir to a railroad fortune...new
money, obviously, but still a member of the club. Ruth, of course, could always
be counted upon.
"Tell us of the accommodations in
steerage, Mr. Dawson. I hear they’re quite good on this ship."
Jack was seated opposite Rose, who was
flanked by Cal and Thomas Andrews. Also at the table were Molly Brown, Ismay,
Colonel Gracie, the Countess, Guggenheim, Madame Aubert, and the Astors.
"The best I’ve seen, ma’am. Hardly any
rats."
Rose motioned surreptitiously for Jack to
take his napkin off his plate.
"Mr. Dawson is joining us from third
class. He was of some assistance to my fiancée last night." He spoke to
Jack as if to a child. "This is foie gras. It’s goose liver."
Whispers were exchanged. Jack became the
subject of furtive glances. Now they all felt terribly liberal and dangerous.
Guggenheim spoke in a low voice to Madame Aubert.
"What is Hockley hoping to prove, bringing this...bohemian...up
here?"
A waiter spoke to Jack. "How do you take
your caviar, sir?"
Cal answered for him. "Just a soupcon of
lemon..." He spoke to Jack, smiling. "...it improves the flavor with
champagne."
Jack spoke to the waiter. "No caviar for
me, thanks." He turned to Cal. "Never did like it much."
He looked at Rose, pokerfaced, and she
smiled.
"And where exactly do you live, Mr.
Dawson?"
"Well, right now my address is the RMS
Titanic. After that, I’m on God’s good humor."
Salad was served. Jack reached for the fish
fork. Rose gave him a look and picked up the salad fork, prompting him with her
eyes. He changed forks.
"You find that sort of rootless
existence appealing, do you?"
"Well...it’s a big world, and I want to
see it all before I go. My father was always talkin’ about goin’ to see the
ocean. He died in the town he was born in, and never did see it. You can’t wait
around, because you never know what hand you’re going to get dealt next. See,
my folks died in a fire when I was fifteen, and I’ve been on the road since.
Somethin’ like that teaches you to take life as it comes at you. To make each
day count."
Molly Brown raised her glass in salute.
"Well said, Jack."
Colonel Gracie raised his glass. "Here,
here."
Rose raised her glass, looking at Jack.
"To making it count."
Ruth, annoyed that Jack had scored a point,
pressed him further.
"How is it you have the means to travel,
Mr. Dawson?"
"I work my way from place to place.
Tramp steamers and such. I won my ticket on Titanic here in a lucky hand at
poker." He glanced at Rose. "A very lucky hand."
"All life is a game of luck."
"A real man makes his own luck,
Archie."
Rose noticed that Thomas Andrews, sitting
next to her, was writing in his notebook, completely ignoring the conversation.
"Mr. Andrews, what are you doing? I see
you everywhere writing in this little book." She grabbed it and read,
"Increase number of screws in hat hooks from two to three. You built the
biggest ship in the world and this preoccupies you?"
Andrews smiled sheepishly.
"He knows every rivet in her, don’t you,
Thomas?"
"All three million of them."
"His blood and soul are in this ship.
She may be mine on paper, but in the eyes of God she belongs to Thomas
Andrews."
"Your ship is a wonder, Mr. Andrews.
Truly."
"Thank you, Rose."
Andrews had come under Rose’s spell.
*****
Dessert had been served and a waiter arrived
with cigars in a humidor on a wheeled cart. The men started clipping ends and
lighting.
Rose spoke to Jack in a low voice. "Next
it’ll be brandies in the Smoking Room."
Gracie rose. "Well, join me for a
brandy, gentlemen?"
Rose whispered to Jack again. "Now they
retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of
the universe."
"Joining us, Dawson? You don’t want to
stay out here with the women, do you?"
Actually, he did, but...
"No thanks. I’m heading back."
"Probably best. It’ll be all business
and politics, that sort of thing. Wouldn’t interest you. Good of you to
come."
Cal and the other gentlemen left the room.
"Jack, must you go?"
"Time for me to go row with the other
slaves."
He leaned over to take her hand.
He slipped a tiny folded note into her palm.
Ruth, scowling, watched him walk away across
the enormous room. Rose surreptitiously opened the note below table level. It
read:
Make it count. Meet me at the clock.
*****
Rose crossed the A deck foyer, sighting Jack
at the landing above. Overhead was the crystal dome. Jack had his back to her,
studying the ornate clock with its carved figures of Honor and Glory. It softly
struck the hour.
Rose went up the sweeping staircase toward
him. He turned, saw her...smiled.
"Want to go to a real party?"