His Place in Society

Full of confidence and hoping that his ''luck backed him'', Jack Dawson strode out of his bunk and back towards the main stairwell of the first-class area. He'd taken a few moments to decide on his line of attack as he straightened his rugged attire as best as he could and gathered his "ticket into first class." As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed that the attending steward had been replaced since his last visit that morning. This further widened his mischievous grin, which he tucked away immediately, knowing he needed to play his part correctly to pass this first hurdle.

The man met him at the top with an almost rude, "Can I help you?" Jack noticed the lack of a "sir" following the question. The previous evening, I had seen uniformed individuals full of subservient "sirs" and "as you please." Inwardly, Jack grimaced, but he didn't let it reach his face. He had a part to play to achieve his goal.

"Yes. I have to return this to Molly Brown." With a flourish, Jack presented the tuxedo she had lent him the previous evening. The steward's expression barely changed, which was a distinct disappointment. Jack had been hoping for at least a little astonishment to help him get past it, but he would go with it, knowing that he had lived life on a whim and that this situation was no different.

"Very good. I will see that it is delivered to her immediately." He reached out and grabbed the clothes out of Jack's hand.

He was ready for that, though.

"Thanks. Please also explain to her why the jacket is missing. You can also explain why I didn't deliver it personally like she asked." Jack lowered his voice conspiratorially.

''Yes.'' The steward nodded but didn't tip his hat.

''Tell her that I enjoyed her company at dinner last night and apologise for the missing jacket. I understand it was her son's favourite and held some sentimental value for her.''

The steward furrowed his brow, suddenly realising that this young ruffian must be sincerely deranged. He quickly searched and found that, indeed, there was no jacket. He had no way of knowing that Rose had worn it back to her suite the night before. Neither man knew that Rose's maid, Trudy, was trying to decide what to do with it at that moment. Both knew, though, that something had to break their impasse.

The steward's head wrinkled in thought. "Whose tuxedo did you say this was? Mrs. Brown's?"

Jack smiled to himself. Rose's tutelage was paying dividends already. "Yes," he said slowly. "Molly Brown." Aboard the ship, she was known as Margaret, with only close friends apparently naming her 'Molly'. Such information was certainly private.

The evidence seemed heavily weighted in Jack's favour, who could see the attendant mentally counting the costs of letting him deliver the tuxedo himself. On the one hand, bothering an important passenger with a ruffian would be an offence, but only a minor one. On the other hand, wilfully inhibiting a message from reaching its destination, if discovered, could land him in hot water. He reached the only decision he could in the circumstances. "All right, lad. You can go. But I can't take you myself. I'll send you with the next steward who comes along."

Jack nodded, happy with the outcome.

''Thank you.''

It was only a brief wait since the servers had to constantly prowl the ship, ready to fulfil the passengers' demands. The man Jack had been talking to hailed another one, speaking aloud so both men could hear the instruction.

"Take this man to see Mrs. Margaret Brown."

"Room B15," Jack interjected helpfully, trying to add another bit of weight to his arguments as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing about to note the dirty looks he was receiving from other passengers.