Jamie’s cheeks dimple. “Charlotte gave me the good news,” he tells me. “Tomorrow on the docking bridge at eleven a.m., but only fifteen minutes. She said you were ‘brilliant.’”
I squeal. I hope the QM will be on duty for our performance so I can dish some smug into his mug when I do cartwheels off his docking bridge. We won’t be able to do the Jumbo, though. Could we hang a tightrope? Probably too risky on a moving ship, but . . . I snap my fingers. “We’ll use the railing. It’s sturdy, and there’s a good twenty-foot drop to add drama. It’ll be like the fence at St. James’s.”
In St. James’s Park, an iron fence surrounded a grove of pink apple trees to prevent people from stealing the fruit. We’d cartwheel atop the railing, and its spikes placed a foot apart added a visual element of danger.
Jamie yanks off his cap, pulling up a comma of hair. “I said I’d perform with you. I didn’t say I’d break my legs.”
I bite back a response. After a bit of practice, he’ll find his feet. One thing at a time.
Tao’s face crinkles in concern. “Who is breaking legs?”
“I’m going to break legs soon if someone doesn’t explain why we are here.” Fong presses his fingers to the low ceiling of the top bunk. “Who stinks?” He glares at the sooty Drummer.
But as I cross the room to open the porthole, I notice the chief offender is Fong himself, with the stale tobacco smell wafting off him.
Jamie loosens his shoulders and begins pacing between the beds. “Thank you all for coming. As you may know, my sister is trying to go to America.”
Heads nod. Wink’s brow furrows, and his cap slides down over his eyes.
Fong makes a phlegmy noise. “I wouldn’t go to America. It is full of barbarians. They probably don’t even have bean sprouts.”
Tao bats Fong on the arm. “Shh, this does not concern your stomach.”
Drummer raises his whirling drum. “How’re you getting into America? You have papers?”
“Not yet,” I say.
“That’s why we need your help,” Jamie says. “You see, Valora and I, well, we’re acrobats.”
Ming Lai, quietly listening, shifts to the edge of the bunk, a look of wonder crossing his strong face, which is shadowed with whiskers. “How come you never told us that, little captain?” he asks in his conch-shell voice.
Jamie shrugs. “It was another life.”
Ming Lai grins. “You’re not old enough to have more than one.”
“So what’s that have to do with America?” Drummer pipes up. “They need acrobats?” His leg begins bouncing. You could power a steamer with all the energy he gives off.
“Sort of.” Jamie smooths back his hair and re-lids his head. “See, there’s this famous circus in America called Ringling Brothers.”
“Bah. Girls should not be acrobats. They should be at home, performing housework,” says Fong.
Jamie ignores him. “A very important passenger named Mr. Stewart might bring Valora to America as a member of the circus if we can impress him. He arranged things with the captain so we can perform for him tomorrow.”
The men exchange surprised glances, and a murmuring starts up. Drummer gives an appreciative drumroll against Ming Lai’s solid arm.
Jamie holds up his hands, and the men quiet. “That’s where you all come in. We need each of you to help us, if you are willing.” He bows to the elders.
So that’s what Jamie’s up to. I guess he has his moments. We are auditioning for the Greatest Show on Earth, after all. Now is the time to pitch all the coal into the fire. The other seamen can help us make sure the show goes smoothly, even add drama.
Tao interlaces his hands and shakes them twice, a gesture of appreciation. “Tell us what you have in mind.”
Jamie glances at me, and I pick up the thread as easily as if we were sharing a brain. “Yesterday, I did some juggling and made more than two pounds off those upper-class passengers.”
“Two pounds?” Fong coughs out.
That’s right, old man. “Wink and Olly helped me, catching coins in their hats while I took my bow.” I throw the lads a smile. “We’ll need you to do it again, if you’re willing.”
“Count me in,” says Olly.
“Me, too,” says Wink heavily, as though the words have to be dragged out of his mouth. Is it my imagination or is he dodging my eyes?
“Also, spread a ‘rumor,’” I add. “Those tend to travel faster than ‘news.’”
Jamie plunks his elbows on Wink’s kneecaps and grins up at him, but Wink still doesn’t smile. “Yeah, and make sure to use words like death-defying and shocking.”
“Drummer and Ming Lai, you’ll be our barkers, letting people know of the show. Ming Lai, you’ll also introduce us. Olly and Wink can help you with the words.”
“I am honored, but why me?” Ming Lai asks.
“You’ve got the best face and a good voice on you,” I reply.
“At least that’s what Russian girls say,” Drummer wisecracks. “Oh, Ming Lai, do you like my apples?” He mimics a girl’s soft voice, batting at his friend with his fingers.
Ming Lai kicks him. “I’ll show you my apples, if you stop shaking your rabbit legs.” All the men laugh.
“Rabbit Legs, I mean, Drummer”—I duck when he pretends to throw his cap at me—“I’ve seen you rouse a crowd. We’re going to need some beats, if you can find a big drum.”
“It would be my pleasure, Little Sister.”
“Val tells me you have some connections to the men working downstairs,” Jamie chimes in. “We’ll need a space to practice, somewhere private. Could you ask around?”
“Somewhere with a good rail,” I add.
Jamie grimaces, but Drummer nods. “Consider it done.”
Tao lifts his serene face to me. “What about us? What can two old men do for you?”
Jamie’s nose crinkles. “Well, we haven’t yet figured—”
“Actually, we’ll need you to acquire some props,” I cut in.
Jamie’s eyebrows peak, and Tao asks, “What props?”
“Two cups with saucers.”
Fong’s eyes light up, two glittery gems in a craggy landscape. Perhaps his taste for pilfering can be put to some use.
Tao’s braided beard seems to stiffen into a dagger, and he gives Fong a hard look. “Only if we can put the props back afterward.”