"The Day the Circus Came to Boonesborough"
Chapter One
"What's in these here kegs, Mingo?" Daniel Boone growled irritably as he handed up another keg to the Cherokee standing in the wagon bed.. "Lead?"
"You're close, Daniel," replied Mingo smiling as he accepted the keg from Daniel's hands and stacked it neatly in the wagon. "These are kegs of nails."
"Nails?" echoed Daniel in disbelief. "Why in thunder are we buyin' nails when our blacksmith can just as easily forge 'em in Boonesborough at one-tenth the price?"
"One of Fat George's little idiosyncrasies, Daniel," Mingo said mildly as Daniel hoisted another keg up to him. He added it to the growing wagon-load and added, "You know as well as I that under British law, all iron smelted in the Colonies must be returned to England to be made into 'useable items' and sold back to us at inflated prices. If we want nails, we must buy nail stock lead for our smiths to forge them or buy them from England. Either way, the British take a tidy profit."
Daniel shook his head in disgust and bent to lift another heavy keg. The two men were in the town of Salem, picking up Cincinnatus' monthly delivery of supplies and taking care of settlement business. This month's list of supplies was large, and most of the items the old tavern keeper requested were heavy.
The two had spent most of the morning locating and purchasing the items on the list. There were the kegs of nails and gunpowder, four crates of rifles, barrels of flour, paper-wrapped cones of caster sugar, coffee beans, boxes of tea, bolts of fabric, all the various and sundry items the settlers of Boonesborough deemed necessary for life and happiness.
Suddenly an ear-splitting sound filled the air.
"What in tarnation?" Daniel swore and jumped . The keg of nails he was holding slipped out of his hands and landed on the big man's foot.
Daniel grimaced and massaged his sore foot as Mingo stood in the wagon bed, hands on hips, laughing.
"Is anything wrong, Daniel?" he asked solicitously.
The noise came again, a horrendous noise somewhere between the roar of an angry moose and a bellowing bull. Daniel looked around for the source of the sound, "Don't tell me you didn't hear that, Mingo!"
Mingo nodded calmly, and continued stacking supplies in the wagon. He straightened up and stretched.
The sound came again. Daniel jumped again. It was unlike anything he had ever heard. He appealed to the grinning Cherokee, "You ever heard anything like it, Mingo?"
Mingo shrugged his shoulders, "It sounded like some sort of animal call, Daniel. I suggest we take a short break, and have a bite to eat. Perhaps the sound will explain itself." He too looked around to see where the sound came from, then bent to rummage under the seat of the wagon.
"What kind of animal makes a sound like that?" Daniel queried.
Mingo hesitated before answering. "It would certainly be unlikely. . . extremely unlikely .. . " He was interrupted by the sound again. It was very loud and much closer..
"What is it?" Daniel demanded. "What do you think it is?"
Mingo wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, "It sounds to me like an elephant!"
"An elephant," Daniel repeated skeptically.
"You have heard of elephants, Daniel?" Mingo teased.
"Heard of 'em. Never seen one," Daniel looked at his friend. "You ever seen an elephant, Mingo? Outside of a book, I mean?"
Mingo nodded. "Yes, when I was a young lad. The Tower of London has a menagerie, Daniel, that is open to anyone who is able to afford the price of admission." He frowned, remembering.
Daniel saw the frown. Getting Mingo to discuss his time in London was like pulling hens' teeth.
Impossible.
Mingo jumped down from the wagon with their bag of provisions in his hands. Daniel reached over the side of the wagon and pulled out a jug of water. They crawled under the wagon into the shade, out of the hot noonday sun. Daniel un-stopped the jug and took a long pull as Mingo pulled out bread and cheese, only slightly stale, wrapped in a cloth. He drew his long knife and sliced off chunks of each and passed them to Daniel, who handed the jug back. Mingo was taking a thirsty swallow, when Daniel tapped his knee and pointed down the street.
A loud voice was haranguing someone else. The unmistakable Cockney accent caught Mingo's attention and he grinned broadly.
"'Ere now, 'ere now!" the voice was saying, "She may be big as an 'ouse but she ain't h'indestructible! Be gentle with 'er! She's a lady, she h'is!"
From their vantage point under the wagon, both men looked to see who the indestructible female might be.
Daniel saw Mingo's jaw drop in astonishment. He knew his mouth must be hanging open too. For coming down the street was, indeed, an elephant.
She was a dainty, feminine creature, standing about ten feet high at the shoulder, with enormous leathery ears. Daniel guessed she weighed at least four tons if not more. Her skin was wrinkled and gray; the lady looked as if she had rolled in the dirt caked in her wrinkled creases. She used her long trunk to gently caress the shoulder of the man accompanying her, the owner of the loud Cockney voice. He was still speaking, this time to his "lady".
"Come along, come along now, love," he was saying in what Daniel guessed were tender tones. "We'll soon find you a nice barn with plenty of 'ay and water." The man was of average height, well-built. His voice, even when not shouting, was still loud and strident. He was theatrically dressed in a plaid suit with large buttons. He had carroty red hair.
"Daniel," Mingo blurted suddenly, "I believe I know him!" Daniel watched in amazement as Mingo crawled out from under the wagon and dashed off toward the man and elephant, still holding a chunk of bread in his hand.
Daniel followed more slowly toward the elephant and her companion. He searched his memory for anything he had ever read about elephants. Though he hoped he was a brave enough man to face any wild beast, he had never seen anything as huge as this mammoth seemed to be and felt a bit of caution might be called for. Mingo, now, on the other hand, seemed never to have heard that fools rush in where angels fear to tread. To Daniel's relief, Mingo slowed and approached the elephant with care.
Mingo called to her caretaker. "I beg your pardon! Philip! Philip Astley, is it you?"
The tall man was patting the elephant's cheek lovingly, and he looked around. When he saw that he was being accosted by a feathered savage speaking better English than his own, he too looked astonished. Well, that made three of them, Daniel thought, grinning.
"Don't believe H'i've 'ad the pleasure. . ." he began as Mingo extended his hand.
The elephant daintily picked the bread out of his other hand with her trunk and stuffed it into her mouth. Mingo began to laugh, and Daniel joined him, if only in laughter.
The man snapped his fingers suddenly, "You don't look like 'im, but you remind me of Kerr Murray!"
Mingo gave an exaggerated bow, "Formerly Kerr Murray, I am now simply Mingo, of the Cherokee," Mingo said, grinning. "Daniel Boone, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Philip Astley, late of His Majesty's 5th Dragoons."
Daniel was standing a cautious 15 feet away.
Mingo teased, "Come along, Daniel! This can't be the first time you've seen anything taller than yourself!"
Philip Astley whistled and extended his hand first to Mingo, then to Daniel. "Not the Daniel Boone, H'i'll be bound!"
Daniel stepped forward to take Astley's hand and found himself grinning at the boisterous man. "The same, I'm afraid. How do you come to know Mr. Astley, Mingo?"
Mingo was smiling too, "I had the pleasure of attending several of Philip's performances in London many years ago, Daniel. Philip is an 'enfant terrible'. He is also the finest equestrian acrobat, I believe, that the world has ever seen! Do you still run your riding school, Philip? What brings you to the Colonies?"
Surprisingly, Astley flushed with modesty. "H'i've a knack with 'orses," he admitted. "Don't know if H'id call meself a h'equestrian, though. H'i 'ave plans to build my riding school into a H'amphitheater! Thought H'i'd combine a little thirst for adventure with a trip to the Colonies to try out my troupe. Then H'i 'eard about Old Bet 'ere," he gestured to the elephant and gave her shoulder a tender pat. "'Ad an opportunity to pick 'er up cheap - only 100 guineas," he boasted. "'Ow could any man resist a h'opportunity like that? "
He gestured at Mingo, from his moccasins to his feathers. "You're lookin' rather different than when H'i saw you last, mate. Don't look much like Lord Dunsmore's lad now, do you?"
Old Bet had grown bored with the conversation, and began to rummage with her long trunk in Astley's pockets, searching for some treat. Daniel watched with fascination as the animal searched methodically. She found nothing, and remembering the bread she had taken from Mingo, began running her trunk over him, sniffing his buckskin jerkin, his sheathed knife and bullwhip. She lifted and investigated his necklace and touched his hair gently. Mingo stood quietly, Daniel noticed, showing no sign of alarm, allowing her to inspect him. Her trunk with its finger-like appendage delicately touched the feathers adorning his head. Before the Cherokee could move away, she had snatched the feathers from his hair and stuffed them into her mouth.
Daniel and Astley laughed at the chagrinned Cherokee. "Probably h'aint too good for 'er digestion," Astley said, "but H'i agree with 'er opinion of your attire!"
"You said he don't look much like you remember," Daniel said, grinning.
"When Philip knew me, I was still the proper Englishman," Mingo admitted. "I am far happier now, Philip, living with my mother's people, the Cherokee, than I ever was in England.
Daniel became aware that the elephant was now eying him with great interest. She stepped nearer and Daniel's apprehension vanished, changing to deep curiosity, as her trunk began searching through his pockets as well. Gingerly Daniel touched the leathery trunk and the appendage at its end as Bet dexterously investigated the contents of his bandolier. Her trunk suddenly emerged with a penny. Daniel watched as the elephant held it up to her eye and inspected it. She popped it into her mouth quickly, tasted the bitter metallic flavor and removed it even faster. Deftly, she replaced the slobbery penny back into his bandolier. In spite of himself, Daniel chuckled aloud. Old Bet cocked her head and regarded him with a mischievous eye. Quicker than a flash, she snatched his coonskin cap off his head and stuffed it into her mouth. She chewed for a moment, deliberated a second longer, then removed the cap and carefully replaced it, also slobbery, back on his head. The mischievous eyes considered for a moment, then the trunk made a small adjustment. Daniel's hand moved to right his cap, but there was no need. Old Bet had settled it in place as well as Daniel himself could have done.
Daniel's jaw dropped in surprise.
"Better give 'er the rest of that bread and cheese before she decides to taste any more of you," Philip advised.
Daniel and Mingo burst into laughter
Obediently, Daniel fed the rest of the stale bread and cheese to Old Bet, whose manners were better than some of the settlers in Boonesborough. She accepted his offering graciously and crammed it into her mouth.
They found a shady spot in the yard of an inn near the warehouses. Daniel fetched a pitcher of ale and tankards. Mingo carried a plate of fresh bread, cheese and fruit. Astley had arranged to board Old Bet in a livery stable next to the inn. She was happily devouring the second pile of hay in an hour, eating with great pleasure. The giggling maids had brought fruits and vegetables from the inn's kitchen and were daring each other to hand them to Old Bet. From where they sat, Astley could keep a keen eye on his latest acquisition.
Daniel poured them each a tankard of ale and Astley began to speak. He told them of his plans to exhibit Old Bet in tavern yards and stables on his way to New York. He had purchased her a few weeks before from a sea captain in Charleston who had bought the elephant in London for 20 pounds.
"Made himself a healthy profit turnin' right around and sellin' her to you, didn't he?" Daniel commented.
"Money well spent, Mr. Boone - 'e didn't know what a prize 'e 'ad plus she's the first h'elephant h'anyone in the Colonies'll 'ave seen, H'i'll be bound," he boasted. "Only thing is, we'll 'ave to travel by night. Can't 'ave anyone seeing for free what H'i'll be charging h'everyone else a shilling for, now can we?"
"Travelin' by night'll be mighty risky," Daniel advised Astley.
Astley was unimpressed. "Mr. Boone, 'oo in 'is right mind would attack an elephant? H'i'll either be riding my lady, or leading 'er with a lantern. Hi've spent years in front of French cannons, as a rough rider, and an 'orse trainer. H'i ain't feared of brigands and thieves!"
Under the shady elm trees in the inn's yard, the talk of circuses continued. Most circuses, Astley said, were in the habit of traveling by night, with someone walking ahead of the wagons with a lantern to guide the way. It was great for business, he asserted, when the come-ons woke to see a circus already set up outside their settlement!
Though traveling shows were old news in England and Europe, Astley told them he intended his show to be a revelation to the American Colonies. Circuses went back thousands of years, Astley informed them. There had been acrobats, tumblers, contortionists, jugglers, funambulists, clowns, tightrope dancers, dancing animals, and human oddities since time immemorial, by these names or others, since humans had first paid a coin to see a show. In his personal experience, he went on, the more difficult tricks were best performed in an "amphitheater" - Astley's own word for a circus - permanently situated. A traveling show relied on dependable, simpler feats to amaze its audience.
"The come-ons, circus patrons, h'if you will, Mingo, Mr. Boone, they don't know the difference between a well-turned performance and a poor one. They'll clap for a pretty trick sooner than a difficult one every time!"
Mingo's hands kept wandering to his featherless head. He said, "Philip, what will you and Old Bet do when you reach New York?"
"Oh, we'll join the rest of my troupe," Astley said blandly, "Liberty 'orses, flip-flappers, rope dancers, jugglers, tumblers, tight rope acts; Old Bet'll be the start of my menagerie. When H'i get to New York, perhaps Hi'll look about for some lions or bears; trained h'animal acts," he added airily. "Of course, H'i myself will perform equestrian stunts that'll astonish everyone. Trick riding, don't you know. Got me a little pony, trained 'im myself. Used to ride h'around London with Billy in me cart," he added. At Daniel's start of surprise, Astley grinned, "Yeah, 'e rides IN the cart with me. Makes 'em all take another look, Hi tell you!"
Mingo grinned suddenly, "You don't mean Little Billy, the pony you had all those years ago, Philip?"
Astley nodded, "One and the same; 'e's pushing 30 years old now, but 'e's a game little chap." He nudged Mingo suddenly, "Do you remember the 'Tailor Riding to Brentford'?"
Mingo laughed out loud, "Indeed I do!"
Astley said, "Reckon you Colonials'll love h'it as much as the Brits do?"
"Tell him about the 'Tailor Riding to Brentford'," Mingo urged Astley, laughing. "It's probably Philip's most famous stunt, Daniel!"
"Well," admitted Astley, "H'it's a favorite of mine too. When H'i joined 'Is Majesty's 5th Dragoons, H'i was only 16. Started out as a rough rider, breaking the 'orses for the soldiers. The officers looked down their noses at those of us 'oo came from shopkeeping backgrounds. H'i will admit, most of us couldn't ride to save our lives. They'd poke fun at us, riding like sacks of potatoes tied to a saddle. Called us all 'tailors'."
Mingo interrupted, "It's far more difficult to pretend to ride badly when you are an excellent rider, Daniel. Philip acted out a tailor riding to wait upon a customer. It's a sketch about a clumsy little fellow who couldn't get on his mount. He could barely stay on, much less ride. He would have his entire audience in stitches, until the very end when Philip would reveal just how extraordinary a rider he really was!"
Mingo went on to persuade his friend Philip to talk about his riding school in Lambeth, near Westminster Bridge, where he had first witnessed Astley's extraordinary exhibitions of horseback riding skill. Daniel listened, fascinated by this glimpse of a world foreign to him in more than distance.
"Halfpenny Hatch," Mingo smiled. It sounded like Haypenny Hatch to Daniel's American ears. "I remember it well, Philip. All of the schoolboys at Oxford tried your stunts after we visited your riding school! The infirmary never saw such a variety of broken bones and sprains!" The Cherokee was clearly far in the past, remembering.
"Yes, 'Aypenny 'Atch," Philip agreed. "H'i always thought you rode like a ruddy H'Indian, old chap! Now H'i know why!"
Deftly, Mingo turned the conversation away from himself.
"The word 'circus' is Latin for ring, Daniel," Mingo advised him. "Philip came up with a brilliant idea. Tell him, Philip!"
Astley blushed, surprising Daniel. "H'it's like this, Mr. Boone," he said. "H'i discovered, quite by h'accident, that the perfect diameter for a schooling ring is 42 feet. H'if an 'orse canters in a circle, at a constant speed while they lean h'inward a bit, centrifugal force will 'elp a man keep 'is balance. That 42 foot ring provides 'im with just exactly the right amount of centrifugal force for the most natural balance. With the right balance, a man with a little talent and determination can do anything on an 'orse 'e's a mind to!"
Daniel had never heard of centrifugal force, but Mingo was nodding his comprehension.
As far as Daniel was concerned, Mingo and his friend Philip Astley might as well be speaking Greek. The events and names they spoke of meant nothing to the big Kentuckian. He really did not mind; it was rare to see Mingo smiling and talking with people from his previous British life. Daniel turned his attention to Old Bet, who found their conversation no more interesting than he did. Astley and Mingo were so engrossed in conversation they did not notice as she plunged her trunk deep into the water trough. Old Bet proceeded to drench them with water she squirted through her trunk. The elephant lifted her trunk high and trumpeted with almost human glee while Daniel laughed out loud too.
Astley laughed louder than Daniel and Mingo at Old Bet's water trick.
"Should've warned you about that," Astley chuckled, "Does h'it every chance she gets! Got quite a sense of 'umor, she 'as!"
Daniel found himself liking the loud-voiced, somewhat rude Astley more and more. In spite of his obvious brilliance, the man showed no conceit whatsoever, just a calm acceptance of his own skill. He admired the kindness Astley showed the elephant, Old Bet. If Astley treated his horses with the same care he showered on Old Bet, no wonder he could coax such incredible feats out of the animals, Daniel thought.
The three of them spent most of the afternoon under the shady trees in the inn's yard talking and laughing.
Daniel and Mingo rose to return to the task of loading the wagon with Cincinnatus' supplies, bidding Astley goodbye. Daniel picked up the last apple and carried it over to Old Bet, who accepted it politely and stuffed it into her mouth. Daniel let his hand wander up her trunk, marveling at the roughness of her hide, gazing into her wise, dark eyes. Suddenly Old Bet lifted her trunk and trumpeted. This time Daniel didn't jump at the sound.
"Mr. Boone!" Astley came hurrying over. "You h'are a lucky man! Circus folk believe that when a h'elephant lifts 'er trunk after being stroked, you'll 'ave your own circus someday!"
"H'Israel will be thrilled," murmured Mingo into Daniel's ear. "H'i can see 'im performing h'incredible feats of skill on 'orseback, can't you, Daniel?"
Daniel laughed at Mingo's precise Cockney imitation of Astley. "Yes, indeedy! Mr. Astley, it's been a real pleasure! Perhaps we'll meet again someday!"