“All Ireland will have heard the news within a week,” said Desmond impatiently, “and the MacWilliam among the rest.”
This was true enough, but I made sure that he knew, for I sent a trusty man to his camp who told him what had taken place. I did this later that night.
As I was taking my leave I asked my mistress if she were satisfied that all was going well, and she replied that she was.
“You will stay on here till I return?” asked I.
I had half a mind to suggest to her that it might be better for her to go back to her own galley, but it seemed like a presumption on my part, and I held my peace.
But once we were on board _The Cross of Blood_, swinging down the stream in the hours of the morning, I wished that I had been bolder.
Yet, what was there to fear? So I repeated to myself, but the fear came again and again. For there were Grace O’Malley and Eva in Desmond’s power, the guard they had with them being of the slenderest now that Richard Burke was out of Askeaton with his gallowglasses, and I myself, with de Vilela and some of our choicest men, going further away with every mile.
Was she justified in placing herself so entirely in the hands of the Earl? There was the rub. My mistress, however, had declared that she was well pleased with the way in which our affairs were moving, and with that assurance I had perforce to be content. And I verily believe she had no doubt but that she could do with Desmond as she chose.
I had been ordered to keep a look-out for the Spanish ships, and I put in at various bays and havens where I thought it might be possible that they had anchored, but I reached Dingle without having seen anything of them. And I well remember that it was towards evening, after we had borne the blaze of the July sun all day, that we came up alongside of Don Juan de Ricaldo’s vessel, and de Vilela and myself went on board of her with her captain.
Next morning I put out to sea again, and, sailing slowly down the coast for perhaps a couple of hours, fell in with the rest of the Spanish ships, tacking to the north-westward.
Having made signs that I wished to speak to them, they lay to. As I approached I saw a man waving his hand to me from the ship that was nearest us, and him I afterwards knew to be Sir James Fitzmaurice, a relative of the Earl of Desmond, and having the reputation of being a skilful soldier. He had already fought against the English in Ireland, but had been beaten by them, and compelled to sue for peace.