boats, but ain’t got nothing from the East
Coast to speak of. Too far by land.
Memphis Papa drops his hand to the top of Joey’s head, patting it.
Sorry son.
______________________________
Finegan and Joey are preparing to leave. They are moored onto the back
porch of an older home, which is listing into the water. This is the
current residence of Memphis Papa, who is there saying goodbye. Finegan
pulls the gangplank onto the boat while Memphis Papa gently tosses the
grappling hooks onto the deck. He has a warning.
You going upriver? Watch out for them yahoos on
boats, they been looting at night round these
parts.
80
Yahoos Afloat
It is foggy, a fog rising from the water as the air is cool and the
water, up from the Gulf, is warm. Finegan is peddling along silently,
well out from the shore. Joey is sitting on the front deck with his arm
over Barney, who has his mouth tied shut with a red bandana.
A floating city, a collection of many different types of boats or
floatation devices is bobbing up and down in the water. One is a group
of rowboats tied together at the front, so they form a wheel. This
seems to be a way of holding onto them more than a living space. One is
a yacht. One is a raft cobbled together from logs for floatation, with
a mattress in the center covered by a couple umbrellas. There are a
couple speedboats with plastic covers as rain guards, pulled back so
those living in them have air.
Sounds of whooping and yelling and spashing can be heard. Dimly,
through the fog, some young men and women are seen jumping into the
water, skinny dipping in the dark. There are no lights anywhere - not
on shore, not on the boats, and not on the houseboat.
______________________________
Finegan is cooking breakfast on the portable camping grill, flipping
fish over and sipping coffee with the other hand. Joey is at the back
of the houseboat, preparing to clean up after Barney, who does his job
on a piece of plastic, which is then slipped over the edge to be rinsed
and folded. A daily morning routine. Barney steps off the plastic,
giving his fresh turd a last sniff. Finegan is setting out 3 plates on
a box next to the grill. He dishes out potatoes from a frying pan set
to the side on the grill, then divides the fish. He sets one plate down
on the deck for Barney and hands another to Joey, then takes a seat on
one of the boxes to eat. Joey asks,
So they were yahoos because they were noisy?
Finegan has his mouth full, but answers anyway.
Ah, yeah, but don’t care about other people
much . . having a party all the time . . taking
what they want.
Half a dozen people have appeared on the shoreline, just standing and
staring. They are dressed in farm clothes, the men in coveralls, the
women in plain cotton dresses and hair in braids wrapped around their
heads. The men have clubs in their hands. Finegan waves but his wave is
not returned.
81
Umm . . Looks like they’re a little touchy
about people in boats.
Joey waves too, and Barney barks once, wagging his tail. Finegan
decides to go over in the canoe, which has been tied to the side of the
houseboat. He gets into the canoe in broad daylight, so those on the
shore can see he is not armed and certainly, being outnumbered, is not
dangerous. Finegan says,
They look like good folk. . . See what this is
about.
______________________________
As Finegan approaches shore he raising both his hands up, holding the
paddle with both hands, to indicate no sudden moves on his part and
allow a full view of the canoe bottom and his sides, to show he is not
packing a weapon. As the canoe bumps shore, a couple men step forward
to pull it onto shore. One of them gives Finegan a hand, which he grabs
to steady himself as he steps out onto the shore. The farmer says,
Thought you were one of them.
Finegan explains.
We came through Memphis and heard about them
yahoos. You militia?
The farmer says,
Shore patrol, yeah.
Finegan introduces himself.
I’m a trader. Been all along the new coastline
since Georgia. Might have something you folks
need, been lookin for. We don’t raid and run,
that’s for sure.
Finegan casts a glance to his right, down river down the shoreline.
Recon it’s safe to leave my boat there? Do they
come up this far, during the day?
The farmer meets the eyes of the others for a moment, getting
confirmation on what he is about to say.
Look, I’ll come back with you and show you a
good bay, out of view and all. If there’s a
problem here, we’ll hear about it.
The farmer raises a horn he has been holding in one hand. It’s a
child’s toy trumpet made of plastic. He hands the trumpet to one of the
others and steps into the water to step into the canoe.
______________________________
82
Finegan and the Farmer are emerging from some woods near a tumbledown
farm. They are walking side by side, but the farmer is leading
slightly. They are talking as they walk toward the collapsed barn and
house. Joey is bringing up the rear, dawdling to look at things in the
woods as he goes. These woods are different from the woods along the
coastline of Georgia, where he had been raised.
The farmer has bib coveralls on, farmer boots that come up near to his
knees, and for a shirt is wearing dirty long johns. He is balding, has
not shaved in days, and a few wild hairs are growing out of his ears
and eyebrows. Appearance is the least of his worries. The farmer is
explaining their troubles.
Can’t get our rest at night. They sleep during
the day, I guess. Half of us sleep during the
day and patrol at night, the other half patrol
during the day, and no work gets done. Hell of
a business.
Exploring for a solution, Finegan asks,
If you could see at night, as well as day,
could you cut your night patrol?
The farmer responds,
You mean lights? We ain’t got those no how.
Finegan continues to explore for a solution.
No, I mean night vision goggles. I’ve got
several from a military depot. If you had a few