“You are in the merchant service, then?”
“Not a bit of it. The Erin is a privateer, faith, and as smart a little vessel as ever cut the water.”
“Ah, indeed.”
“She’s French built and Irish manned,” continued Captain McHale. “And though I do say it meself, she’s done more damage to the Saxon than any other craft of her tonnage that ever slipped out to sea by the light of the stars.”
Longsword had been examining the young sailor carefully while he talked to Ethan. Now he asked:
“Are ye of the west of Ireland, Captain McHale?”
“I am, sure,” answered the other.
“I thought so. When ye see an Irishman wid straw colored hair and blue eyes he’s always a sailor. There’s some of the blood of the old Vikings in ye all. King Brian beat the Danes at Clontarf, but he didn’t drive them all out of the land. And if ye went back far enough, McHale, I’ll go bail ye’d find your ancestors wid winged helmets on the heads of them and beards a foot long.”
The yellow haired man laughed.
“Maybe so,” said he. “I’ll not be denying it.”