In one of these caverns we deposited the treasure taken from the galleon, hardly speaking except in whispers as we did so, for the hush of the place lay on us like a spell.
I ever felt a creepy horror of these dim, dumb shades, and was glad, when our work was done, to return again to the light of the sun.
It was on our way back to the castle that Grace O’Malley spoke of what was in her mind. Her face was stern and set and full of purpose.
“Ruari,” said she, “much has happened since last we visited these caves together with my father, Owen. Now he is gone, and I, his daughter, am proscribed by the English. To what better end could the treasure in these caves be put than to help to drive the English out of Ireland?”
“The treasure is yours,” said I slowly, for her words killed my new-found hope, “to do with as you list, and your will is mine. But the English are many, and brave and strong. Remember Shane O’Neil, and how he fell before them. It would be a terrible thing to lose the treasure, and still to have the English in the land.”
“We are at war with them in any case,” said she. “As for Shane O’Neil, he was unsuccessful because he stood alone, but if all the princes and chiefs of the island unite, the result would surely be different. Then there is the power of Spain to be thrown into the balance on our behalf. The King has promised to send both men and money, if we will but compose our own feuds, and band ourselves together for the one common object.”
I answered not a word, but pulled at the oars doggedly.
“Ruari!” she exclaimed. “Why this silence? It is not like you to be so quiet when the sound of battle is in the air.”
“Say on,” cried I, “I am your servant.”