“That’s better, sor, though any one would hardly know me for an Irishman by my spache. Sure there are times when I haven’t a bit of brogue left. It’s the sun dhries it out of me, I think.”
“But why didn’t you warn us?”
“Because there’d a been a regular shaloo if I had. The other gintleman would have told your men here to pull away, and the dhragon boat would have been afther ye shying shpears, and you’d have been shuting, and the end would have been that ye’d been hurt; and think o’ that now.”
“But we should have rowed right away.”
“Divil a bit. They’d soon have caught ye or been firing their brass lalys at yez.”
“What’s a brass laly?” said Ned.
“Get out wid ye, sor: poking fun at me. Who said a wurrud about lalys? I said lalys.”
“Well, so did I.”
“Not a bit of it; ye said lalys.”
“So did you.”