I give them each five shillings, and Olly’s face splits open. He pours the coins from hand to hand. “I’m going to buy a Panama hat.” He glances at Wink’s foot, hanging over the side of the bed. “And you should buy boots that don’t look like they came out of a cow’s butt.”
Wink kicks him. “You came out of a cow’s butt.”
I rummage through Jamie’s seabag for a pair of socks and peel one off for the boys. “This is for your money.” I stuff my share into the other.
Wink puts his five shillings into their sock and hands it to Olly. But Olly closes his hand around his coins. “What if I want to buy something?”
“Like what?” Wink’s face screws up, putting me in mind of an angry dumpling.
“I’d like to put in for the sweeps—”
“Waste of money,” grumbles Wink.
“Or maybe get a souvenir. I hear they got spoons, pens, and wallets at the barbershop.”
“Spoons? Pens? Wallets?” Wink turns a rosy shade of pink and begins cursing in Cantonese. “What makes you think you’ll ever have enough money to put in a wallet?” He throws out his hands. “You waste all your money on stupid things. Candy, chewing tobacco—even though you don’t like it—cricket races. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
While I marvel at all the unexpected words that just fell out of Wink’s mouth, Olly’s shoulders start twitching. “And saving up for a tree house isn’t stupid?”
Wink’s narrow chest heaves, and he squeezes his hands into fists. If he were still holding bread heels, we would have two piles of crumbs. “That’s private.”
“Not that private. You talk about it all the time in front of Jamie.”
Wink slides off the bed and lands with a light thump. Olly must realize he’s pushed his smaller half too far, because he hangs his matchstick head. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry. Look.”
Wink grudgingly turns around, holding himself so tight, one little swell could send him toppling over like a vase. Olly drops his coins into their sock, one at a time, as if each coin requires a personal farewell.
“That’s a good lad,” I say in the voice I would use to coax Ba into eating something when he was in one of his moods. “A penny saved is twice got.” The familiar sound of Jamie’s laugh grows louder from outside the door. “Grab the playing cards, lads! Time for a last trick.”
14
When Jamie and Bo swagger into Room 14, their faces animated, Wink, Olly, and I pretend to be deep in Winds of Change.
Olly sets down an eight of diamonds. “Change to diamonds.”
“Hello, Sis,” Jamie nearly sings, pulling off my cap. “Cripes, your hair! Bald as a monkey.”
Wink and Olly barely look up from their cards. Bo closes his mouth, dusting off his surprise like a bit of dirt on his lapel. Briskly, he removes his coat and washes up at the sink. Jamie reaches out to touch my head, but I dodge his hand.
“Lift your skirts and get over it. It’s just hair.”
“You didn’t say that when I picked a hundred burrs from your head.”
I bite back a smile, remembering the time we crawled through a thicket, our pockets full of stolen walnuts.
Wink lays down a diamond, and the lads side-eye me. I throw down my last card. “Eight of spades. Sorry, lads, but your last name’s not Luck.”
Jamie squats beside my bunk. “So fess up. Bo and I made out pretty good today.”
Wink shuffles with zest, his elbows jabbing the air around him, and Olly makes the mattress bounce with his nervous energy.
“Is that right, Brother?” I ask, all starry-eyed innocence.
“The boatswain told us he’d pay us tuppence for each chair we fixed.”
My lip trembles, and I make my eyes real big and fretty. “So how many did you fix?”
“Why, are you worried, Sis?”
“They do not look worried,” says Bo, observing Wink and Olly through the mirror. Despite our plan to act casual, the lads look like two pipes about to burst. Bo wipes his face with a towel, but not hard enough to remove his scowl. “We fixed twelve each.”
“Let’s see, twenty-four chairs, at tuppence each, makes forty-eight pence. Divided by twelve pence a shilling . . . Four shillings is barking brilliant! That’s more than your daily wage.”
With a frown, Jamie crosses his arms, as if bracing for a hit. “What are you up to?”
“I hope you’ve been doing your wake-up drills, because we’re trying out for the circus.”
Olly whoops, and Wink gets so excited, the cards spill in every direction.
Jamie’s jaw descends. “You made more than four shillings? How?”
Olly can’t hold back. “She juggled four bread heels and an apple, while balancing that on her head.” He points to the pineapple, which I laid on Jamie’s bed. A consolation prize.
Bo leans against a bedpost, and a look of wonder crosses his face.
Olly scoops up cards, forgetting to arrange them facing the same way. “You should’ve seen all those nobs, throwing coins like birdseed. It was better than eating marmalade.”
Wink snickered. “You never had marmalade.”
“Snakes, Val. You could’ve gotten us kicked off this boat.”
I tsk my tongue. “Where exactly would they kick us to? There’s nothing but ocean for miles and miles.”
“That may be, but they do have law here. Probably got a brig or something where they put the unruly passengers.”
I remember the Master-of-Big-Arms’s keys. Jamie could be right. His gaze probes me, as if he can actually see the close call I’m reliving in my head. I shut him out with a smile. “Well, unless they’ve got a brig where they put the jugglers, I guess we’re safe.”
Wink giggles, and Jamie’s frown deepens.
“You’re just miffed you didn’t think of it.” I slide off the bunk and come face-to-face with the tiny mole above Jamie’s lip, which, according to Ba, indicates a considerate, thoughtful nature. You wouldn’t know it by the way he’s acting, though, scratching the ground like a rooster in a crate. Jamie can’t refuse a wager, but he also never loses well.
“How much did you make?” Jamie asks.
I don’t answer, enjoying all the clever contortions Jamie’s face seems capable of making. The supper bugle calls, but no one moves.
“Five shillings?” Bo can’t help guessing.