Therefore, Grace O’Malley commanded me to take The Cross of Blood, and, sailing southwards, to keep a look-out for Sir Nicholas and the English vessels of Winter, then in charge of a great part of the fleet of Queen Elizabeth. And, indeed, I was eager to be gone, not only because I was ever ready for action of one kind or another, but also because I felt it would be a relief to the painful uncertainty in which I was with regard to Eva.
I had several times resolved to speak to my dear of the love for her which burned within me, but no fit occasion seemed to arise, and, shy and timid where she was concerned, I had not had the wit to make one for myself. And I marvelled at myself, being bold, not to say foolhardy, in most matters, and yet not a little of a coward before this one small, fair woman.
Out from Clew Bay put we with all haste, the wind and sea not being amiss, and here for two days we drove before the breeze without coming in sight of a ship of any size. On the third day we lay off shore in a bay not many leagues from Galway, and there the hours passed by, and still there was no sign of Winter’s vessels.
I was in two minds, nor could at first settle with myself whether to return to Clew Bay at once, having come to the conclusion that Sir Nicholas was to attack us by land, or to endeavour to enter Galway, and so to discover what he had done, or was about to do.
Now it was of the utmost consequence that we should learn what were the plans of the Governor, if they could be come at in any way, and, having informed my officers of what I proposed, I determined to disguise myself and to enter the city to obtain what we were in search of.
Bidding my people return to Clew Bay if I came not back to the galley in three days at the furthest, I put on the dress of a mendicant friar, and in the night was rowed to the fishing village that is just outside the gates of Galway. Landing, I made my way to the huts, and saw a light burning in one. When I knocked at the door, a man appeared, who, seeing a priest, as he thought, asked my blessing and invited me to enter.
After a few words, I threw myself down on the earthen floor, and, saying that I was weary and fain would sleep, closed my eyes and waited for the dawn. The fisherman made some rough provision for my comfort, and left me; but I could hear him whispering to his wife, and her replying to something he had said.
When the morning was come, I asked to be shown the house of the nearest priest, whom I found, early as it was, astir and busy with his office. Discovering myself to him—and this I did because I knew all the Irish priests were our friends—I requested him to tell me where Sir Nicholas was.
But he made answer that he went seldom within the walls of the city, as the watch was very strict since the escape of Grace O’Malley, and that no one was suffered to go in or out save only by permission of the marshal. He had heard, however, that since her flight the Irish in Galway and the neighbourhood were regarded with suspicion, and that some of them had been cast into prison. Sir Nicholas, he thought, was still in Galway.
As for Grace O’Malley, she had been proclaimed a traitress by the Governor, and an enemy of the Queen. I myself, Ruari Macdonald, was also proscribed as an abettor of her treasons, and a great reward was offered for the head of the “redshank and rebel,” as Sir Nicholas was pleased to call me.