hour before, so they could dress and have breakfast, in the dining car again. Lucas
ordered nearly everything on the menu, and tried to order in German. Nick forced him
to use his halting English instead of translating for him. Toby had learned enough
English to speak a little, although not well. He had to struggle for his words, but
the people he spoke to were patient about it. Nick let Lucas order for all of them,
and he did a decent job of it, and got everything right, exceptfor the pancakes, which he called “crepes” and confused the waiter. Both boys spoke
a smattering of French, which they’d learned from a nanny they’d had when they were
younger and still remembered, and enough English to get by.
When the train finally stopped in the Sarasota station, they felt as though they’d
been traveling for weeks or months, not a mere six days on the ship and twenty hours
on the train. There were roustabouts from the circus removing the boxcar, when Nick
got off the train with the boys, and two porters carrying their trunks. He had no
idea what to do next, when a man in a shiny blue suit, a lavender shirt, and a red
tie came up to them, wearing a fedora pushed back on his head, and brandishing a foul-smelling
cigar like a magic wand.
“Mr. von Bingen?” he asked, and the two boys stared at the man, silently echoing their
father’s unspoken thoughts. They had never seen anyone like him. The man smiled broadly
the moment Nick acknowledged who he was. It was obvious that the man in the shiny
blue suit was from the circus, and had come to meet them. And he confirmed that the
moment he spoke.
“Welcome to Florida and the Greatest Show on Earth,” he said grandly, waving the cigar
in Lucas’s face. The boy scrunched up his nose at the evil smell and turned away,
while his father shook the man’s hand.
“Thank you for coming to meet us,” Nick said sincerely, grateful for the help.
“Of course. Joe Herlihy,” he said, pumping Nick’s hand until Nick thought his arm
would fall off. Joe instructed the handlers to load the boxcar onto the flatbed truck
he had brought with him. The logo of the circus was emblazoned on the door of the
panel truck he was driving, and it was strange to see it now. It made everything suddenly
seem more real. “How did the horses do on the trip?”
“Surprisingly well,” Nick said in the clipped British accent he had when he spoke
English, because that was where he had learned it, in boarding school. The man with
the cigar spoke in a Southern drawl that was hard for Nick to understand.
“Do the boys speak English?” Joe asked with interest and a friendly glance over his
shoulder at the boys in the backseat of the truck. The boxcar was following on the
flatbed.
“A little. They’re learning. We came over on a German boat, so they really haven’t
had to speak it yet,” Nick explained.
“They can go for years without ever learning it here,” Joe said with a grin. “We have
thirty-two nationalities at the circus, and over thirteen hundred performers and workers.
It’s a small village, or actually not so small, maybe more like a small city.” When
he spoke, he did so with obvious pride. “I’ve been with them for twelve years. I’m
usually a scout, in the States anyway. Mr. North does the scouting and hiring himself
in Europe. And they use me to meet and greet sometimes, for people like you. We have
a lot of Germans, as well as Czechs, Poles, and Hungarians—they all speak German too.
You should feel right at home there.” Nick knew it was going to take more than a common
language for him to adjust to his new colleagues and surroundings, but if many of
them spoke German, it would be nice for the boys, and he knew Lucas would be relieved.
He wanted to make friends quickly, he always did. Toby wanted to practice his English,
and so did Nick. There were a lot of American expressions he didn’t
ordered nearly everything on the menu, and tried to order in German. Nick forced him
to use his halting English instead of translating for him. Toby had learned enough
English to speak a little, although not well. He had to struggle for his words, but
the people he spoke to were patient about it. Nick let Lucas order for all of them,
and he did a decent job of it, and got everything right, exceptfor the pancakes, which he called “crepes” and confused the waiter. Both boys spoke
a smattering of French, which they’d learned from a nanny they’d had when they were
younger and still remembered, and enough English to get by.
When the train finally stopped in the Sarasota station, they felt as though they’d
been traveling for weeks or months, not a mere six days on the ship and twenty hours
on the train. There were roustabouts from the circus removing the boxcar, when Nick
got off the train with the boys, and two porters carrying their trunks. He had no
idea what to do next, when a man in a shiny blue suit, a lavender shirt, and a red
tie came up to them, wearing a fedora pushed back on his head, and brandishing a foul-smelling
cigar like a magic wand.
“Mr. von Bingen?” he asked, and the two boys stared at the man, silently echoing their
father’s unspoken thoughts. They had never seen anyone like him. The man smiled broadly
the moment Nick acknowledged who he was. It was obvious that the man in the shiny
blue suit was from the circus, and had come to meet them. And he confirmed that the
moment he spoke.
“Welcome to Florida and the Greatest Show on Earth,” he said grandly, waving the cigar
in Lucas’s face. The boy scrunched up his nose at the evil smell and turned away,
while his father shook the man’s hand.
“Thank you for coming to meet us,” Nick said sincerely, grateful for the help.
“Of course. Joe Herlihy,” he said, pumping Nick’s hand until Nick thought his arm
would fall off. Joe instructed the handlers to load the boxcar onto the flatbed truck
he had brought with him. The logo of the circus was emblazoned on the door of the
panel truck he was driving, and it was strange to see it now. It made everything suddenly
seem more real. “How did the horses do on the trip?”
“Surprisingly well,” Nick said in the clipped British accent he had when he spoke
English, because that was where he had learned it, in boarding school. The man with
the cigar spoke in a Southern drawl that was hard for Nick to understand.
“Do the boys speak English?” Joe asked with interest and a friendly glance over his
shoulder at the boys in the backseat of the truck. The boxcar was following on the
flatbed.
“A little. They’re learning. We came over on a German boat, so they really haven’t
had to speak it yet,” Nick explained.
“They can go for years without ever learning it here,” Joe said with a grin. “We have
thirty-two nationalities at the circus, and over thirteen hundred performers and workers.
It’s a small village, or actually not so small, maybe more like a small city.” When
he spoke, he did so with obvious pride. “I’ve been with them for twelve years. I’m
usually a scout, in the States anyway. Mr. North does the scouting and hiring himself
in Europe. And they use me to meet and greet sometimes, for people like you. We have
a lot of Germans, as well as Czechs, Poles, and Hungarians—they all speak German too.
You should feel right at home there.” Nick knew it was going to take more than a common
language for him to adjust to his new colleagues and surroundings, but if many of
them spoke German, it would be nice for the boys, and he knew Lucas would be relieved.
He wanted to make friends quickly, he always did. Toby wanted to practice his English,
and so did Nick. There were a lot of American expressions he didn’t
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