A houseboat. Finegan Fine

Toward evening the houseboat is approaching the shore where the bonfire

party was held just the night before. Those on shore can see the front

of the houseboat, which leads during the pedaling process, and can see

a pile of youngsters now almost all asleep. One of the young kids jumps

up, recognizing his mother on shore.

Mama! Mama!

The group on shore is gathering, more and more campers coming from the

woods or from temporary shelters thrown together and rushing to the

shoreline. As the houseboat slows and Finegan leaves the pedals to moor

with the grappling hooks, some in the crowd wade into the water, not

waiting. The kids are coming forward to stand on the edge of the

houseboat front, some reaching their arms out. Finegan throws his hands

up, smiling, and arranges to work with a couple men coming to help,

handing them each a grappling hook, which is walked, rather than

thrown, onto shore.

______________________________

31

That night, the hag has been tied to a chair, seated near the bonfire

where her features can be seen. There are boxes and various chairs

lined up to one side, where the jury has been assembled. Six men and

six women are seated, listening. The camp mistress is bringing the girl

to the other side, where her features can be seen by the jury in the

firelight. The girl will testify as to her experience, and what she

observed at the shack. The girl points at the hag.

Smelly rag over my mouth and held me down.

The hag of course is objecting.

She’s a lying. I found them lost and brought

’em home.

In the shadows on the edge of the court scene, the parents can hardly

keep silent.

Burn her, burn her alive! Why are we having

this stupid trial, it’s obvious.

Someone walks up to Finegan and hands him a bottle.

You’ve earned this, I recon.

Finegan takes the bottle, taking a swig. He points with his bottle

hand.

Now what? I half expect them to toss her into

the fire.

______________________________

Later that night, the hag, her hands still tied, is being muscled to

the rowboat on the edge of the shore. She is resisting, being pushed

and carried between two men when she tries to dig her feet into the

soft earth along the shore.

Can’t do this. Those kids lied. This is murder

I tell ya.

Almost covered by the people who have muscled her to the rowboat, she

is lifted and set into the center of the boat, and then tied down by

numerous ropes – feet, knees, and elbows tied to the boat in some

manner or another. The rowboat, without oars, is pushed away from shore

and into the receding tide and the outflow from the river.

Exile at sea, to starve to death in the same manner she was starving

the kids. The boat drifts from shore and into the night, the hag’s

cries becoming distant and barely audible.

32

Industrial Revolution

Finegan is sorting through various small mechanical parts stored inside

the house of the houseboat. He is pulling boxes out, checking the

contents, pouring some out on a table in the center of the thoroughly

cluttered house, and labeling other boxes. He is sorting stuff on the

table into small boxes and labeling these. The overall approach is to

move what he has sorted and labeled into one cleared corner of the

house - taking a total inventory so to speak. Finegan says,

I forget what all I have, ya know?

Joey is being a loyal assistant, taking labeled boxes away and bringing

others closer to Finegan who is seated on a stool during this process.

Every once in awhile Joey finds something totally inappropriate, like a

dirty shirt, and holds it up for Finegan to pass judgement. Finegan

shrugs and says,

I dunno. . . Put it on the laundry pile, I

guess.

Finegan sighs, and looks up at Joey.

I suppose that’s another thing we should be

doing.

He returns to his work, pulling things out of a box Joey has dragged to

his feet.

______________________________

The houseboat is moving along the outer edges of a flooded subdivision,

some rooftops seen sticking out of the water and some just under the

water. Finegan is keeping a distance away, as the slope appears to be

shallow. He is sticking to deep water. Finegan points to the flooded

rooftops.

The last thing we need is to be stuck on one of

those. I don’t fancy trying to lift this boat

offn’ one of ‘em.

Finegan flashes a smile at Joey, who is looking worried.

Well, we could always wait a day or two until