Finegan sets his plastic buckets to the side of the soap pile, but far
enough way that the owner must actually rise from the pile to reach the
food. Finegan steps back. The owner lunges for the food, shuffling to
his corner of the bunker with it, hugging the buckets to his chest. He
starts stuffing the roasted pumpkin into his mouth like a famished
animal. Finegan picks up his soap pile and backs away toward the bunker
entry.
49
Love at Last
The houseboat is peddling along a stretch of flooded shoreline that is
rolling, grassy hills. Flocks of sheep can be seen here and there,
grazing. Joey is at ease on the rooftop, sitting cross-legged, as few
trees seem to be in the area and the hillocks can be readily seen under
the water. On occasion he points to the right or the left, indicating
which direction Finegan should steer the boat.
On shore is what looks like a group of people wrestling with a sheep.
Two men are holding it down while a woman is sheering the wool off.
Finegan stops peddling the houseboat, letting it drift closer to shore
in the morning tide. Some in the group glance up, noticing the
houseboat, but don’t stop their task until the sheep has been sheered.
They stand up suddenly, the sheep bounding to its feet and escaping.
The group continues to stand and stare, not waving or calling, piles of
wool around their feet. Finally the woman leans over to bundle the
loose wool, tying it with a cord and slinging it over her shoulder. She
sets off up the hill.
Finegan decides he must either moor or peddle to open water and turns
the boat toward shore, a spot where the shoreline elevates quickly and
the rising tide won’t run past his grappling hooks. He comes to the
front and heaves the hooks high into some brush at the shoreline. Puts
the plank at a sharp angle so that when the houseboat rises with the
tide it will be level, and climbs up, Joey at his feet. They walk over
to the two men, still standing like statues.
Finegan offers his hand.
The deafmute comes to life and takes Finegan’s outstretched hand,
nodding. He signs, using sign language. Finegan looks momentarily
stunned, trying to figure out how to communicate and not sure if they
understood his words. He hands Joey a stick and picks up a leaf, then
he and Joey exchange while Finegan mouths his word in an exaggerated
fashion.
The deafmute nods and motions toward the houseboat, taking off for the
houseboat with Finegan in tow. They both clamor up the gangplank, with
the deafmute poking through Finegan’s goods. Finegan is at his elbow,
looking a tad worried as he is not sure the man understands the nature
of their business – an exchange.
50
The deafmute seizes on a folded tarp, and leaving his finger firmly on
the tarp, stands and smiles at Finegan. Using the man’s body language,
Finegan motions dramatically toward the hill where the woman carted off
the wool, and starts to step toward the gangplank, watching the
deafmute closely. Seeing that he is following him, not carting off the
tarp, Finegan is reassured and smiling, and raises his hands up
slightly, shrugging to Joey.
______________________________
The roof of the old wool mill has been partially torn off, and the sign
likewise torn apart. The word “Deaf” can still be seen on the sign,
however. Some of the stones in the walls have been shaken loose and
dropped into the yard, while other walls look relatively intact. The
deafmute is leading them around to the side toward the mill where wool
is combed and spun and large looms are worked by foot pedals.
A woman is working a loom, weaving wool cloth. There is a price list on
the wall, listing sizes of blankets or fine woolen cloth by the yard.
This posted paper is yellowed with age. Some gardens are seen in the
distance, where men are hoeing the rows of vegetables.
The deafmute walks up to a pile of folded blankets and fine woolen
cloth in a bolt. He gestures toward these, indicating this is what they
are willing to barter. All the blankets and bolts of cloth are earth
tones, not dyed.
Finegan nods, turning toward Joey and pulling him close. He is tugging
on Joeys shirt, which has started to get tight as he is growing. His
pants likewise are tight, the waist button undone so a cord around the
waist is holding the pants up. The deafmute nods, understanding. He
motions that they should follow him into another section of the mill.
Here there is a treadle sewing machine, and flexible body models. The
models have sections that can be squeezed together to simulate a
smaller man or woman or child, or pulled apart for a fatty. Any shape
can be simulated – fat hips, big shoulders, etc. There is a model for
each sex and several for children of various ages.
The deafmute takes Joey by the hand and takes him up to one of the
