The door opens. Without turning around, Bo swings a hand back and catches the edge before it swipes us.
“Hello.” Jamie looks from Bo to me, and his eyes bend into inquisitive hooks.
“Where’ve you been?” I demand, as if I’ve been doing nothing but waiting here.
“Collecting the men.”
Olly and Wink, both looking fresh and windblown, jumpup onto the top bunk. Tao and Fong slide into the bottom bunk. Opposite them, Ming Lai and Drummer, his face and clothes black with soot, fit themselves onto Bo’s bunk, while Bo seats himself on a pull-down wall chair near the door.
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 thechief 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 hishead. “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. Weareauditioning 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.
