It was five weeks in a floating prison he was facing, but hadn’t he no choice entirely, thought Joey Driscol. It was take the boat or wait, maybe even longer, until his head was healed fully. No one would believe the run of bad luck he was having, but wasn’t Marti the one who would suffer the most? The boy was over in Ireland, a strange country to him, with a mother who was unfit to mind him. Sure, Marti could be in any state now and wouldn’t he be cursing his father for allowing it. How did it happen? How did he get into this whole mess?
Joey paced up and down the few steps that lay between the tiny cabin’s bunks. Five weeks. Jaysus, couldn’t anything happen in five weeks. Marti could be taken from Shauna, placed in care. She wasn’t well sure. Or couldn’t the boy run off, mightn’t he be
