"Our English cousins——"
"Hands across the sea——"
"Blood is thicker than water——"
Then comes a humourous story about an Englishman, an American, and an Irishman, at which the English passengers laugh, having a tradition that "you Yankees are such droll chaps!" The chairman now switches quickly from the quasi-ridiculous to the pseudo-sublime, and works up to his big moment, which has for its climax the table-pounding statement that "the Anglo-Saxon race must and shall predominate!"
This is violently applauded by everybody but a Frenchman, who writhes horribly and Fletcherises his handkerchief.
YOUR CAP GOES FLYING OVERBOARD; YOUR CIGAR IS BLOWN TO SHREDS.
When the applause is over, the entertainment begins with the announcement that the Opera-Singer and the Polish Pianist are unable to appear, owing to indisposition—which really means an ingrowing disposition not to do so. They have, however, sent "liberal donations" to the Fund. We then find that "we are nevertheless so fortunate as to have with us to-night" a young actor. The Actor gives a serio-comic recitation. But his encore is his pièce de résistance. It proves to be a vivid verse about marine disaster, a form of selection obviously suited to the occasion. Where, except at a ship's concert, can one get the full value of such lines as
"We are lost!" the captain shouted,
As he staggered down the stair—
By turning one's head only slightly, one can actually see the stair, all ready for the captain. Suppose we hit a derelict at this very moment! We might see the whole thing acted out!