Titanic: The Novelization (110th Anniversary Edition)

April 13

The next day was a bright and sunny Saturday. Rose would remember feeling the sun as though she hadn't felt the sun in years, as she soon found out when she went out onto the boat deck. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she wasn't wearing a hat. Maybe it was something else. After breakfast, she told Ruth that she was going for a stroll around the deck, and that's exactly what she did...for a while. On the port side of the First Class entrance, she met Dorothy Gibson.

"Hello again, Miss Rose," Dorothy greeted.

"Hello again, Dorothy," Rose smiled.

"Taking a stroll by yourself, I see?"

"I was just heading to Third Class to talk to a friend of mine, not that you would be that interested in coming--"

"No, I would love to see it for myself. Personally, I'm starting to find my accommodations a little stuffy for me as well and I could use a nice change of air. But how do we get there?"

"I asked the purser just before I came up," Rose replied. "He couldn't find Mr. Dawson's name on the list, but he was able to direct me to where he might be: Third Class' General Room. It's a bit forward of here."

"I'd like to meet Mr. Dawson, too," said Dorothy as they headed forward. "What is he like?"

"I do not know much about him," replied Rose. "But I have a feeling that he may have an open view of the world."

The social center of steerage life was located in the Third Class Open Space on D-Deck, right under the Forward Well Deck. It was stark by comparison to the opulence of first class, but it was a loud, boisterous place. There were mothers with babies, kids running between the benches yelling in several languages and being scolded in several more. Small scores of old women yelling, men playing chess, girls doing needlepoint and reading dime novels filled the benches and tables. There was even an upright piano and Frank Goldsmith was noodling around it with his friend Alfred Rush, who was around Rose's age. The three Goodwin boys, Charles, William and Harold, were shrieking, shouting and scrambling around chasing a rat under the benches, trying to smash it with a shoe and causing general havoc. Jack was playing with Cora, drawing funny faces together in his sketchbook.

Fabrizio sat on a bench next to Helga, trying to teach her some more English words like "tree" and "bird". Some of these words were Italian, which Helga picked up almost instantly. Her mother found this to be so confusing, that she tapped Helga's shoulder and said.

"Helga, ikke bry mannen. Som faren din sa, vi lærer engelsk så snart vi kommer til Amerika."

"Men hvorfor vente?" Helga was impatient.

"Han er ikke lærer," said her father.

"Don't think of my parents," Helga said in her best English to Fabrizio. "They, don't understand you."

Jack sat down next to Fabrizio.

"I see you two are getting along quite well."

"Si," Fabrizio smiled ecstatically.

Then he noticed a faint glimmer of pride shining off of Jack's face.

"You seem to be in a good mood. As much as me, eh?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "Would you believe me if I said that I saved the life of that girl I was staring at last night?"

Tommy, who had taken his time away from the piano to admire some of Jack's sketches, overheard him.

"You mean that angel of a princess whom you'll never--"

Before he could remind Jack about the whole spiel of class differences and the like, time seemed to slow down for everyone in the room.