Everything sails along smoothly and delightfully until the night of the concert for the seaman's fund. This entertainment is customary on all liners and usually is held on the last night out. The passengers provide the entertainment.
I am requested to perform. The thought scares me. It is a great tragedy, and, much as I would like to do something, I am too exhausted and tired. I beg to be excused, I never like making appearances in public. I find that they are always disappointing.
I give all manner of reasons for not appearing--one that I have no particular thing to do, nothing arranged for, that it is against my principles because it spoils illusion--especially for the children. When they see me minus my hat, cane, and shoes, it is like taking the whiskers off Santa Claus. And not having my equipment with me, I feel very conscious of this. I am always self-conscious when meeting children without my make-up for that very reason. I must say the officers were very sympathetic and understood my reasons for not wanting to appear, and I can assure you that the concert was a distinct success without me. There were music and recitations and singing and dancing, and one passenger did a whistling act, imitating various birds and animals, also the sawing of wood, with the screeching sound made when the saw strikes a knot. It was very effective.
I watched and enjoyed the concert immensely until near the end, when the entertainment chairman announced that I was there and that if the audience urged strongly enough I might do something for them. This was very disconcerting, and after I had explained that I was physically exhausted and had nothing prepared I am sure the audience understood. The chairman, however, announced that it did not matter, as they could see Charlie Chaplin at any time for a nickel--and that's that.
The next day is to be the last aboard. We are approaching land. I have got used to the boat and everybody has got used to me. I have ceased to be a curiosity. They have taken me at my face value--face without moustache and kindred make-up. We have exchanged addresses, cards, invitations; have made new friends, met a lot of charming people, names too numerous to mention.