while the boat dries her last...and then, God
willing, be away from this awful place.
ABE:
(appears lost
in thought)
Back to the Big Apple, indeed.
He looks around, gazes down-river. SWEDEN does the same. They stand side by side, framed in golden light. Perhaps not so oddly, the place seems quite beautiful now. A reverent silence sets in. The men look like they have aged 10 years since they set out.
ABE:
(near whispers)
My God, Swede. What have we done?
SWEDEN appears to think about it, gazing down-river. At length he clasps ABE’S shoulder.
SWEDEN:
Let us not speak of it.
(beat)
Whatever it was.... It was not of—
or for—ourselves.
ABE:
(sees an otter flop in
the current, roll over
upon its back)
Aye.
Something thunks at their feet, then, something which has come to the
