So, it meant blood. Aulay MacNeill and Donull MacDonull put down their gear, rose, and stood waiting for what Mànus would do.
“Ho, there!” he cried.
“Ho-ro!”
“What will you be wanting, Eilanmore?”
“We are wanting a word of you, Mànus MacCodrum. Will you come ashore?”
“If you want a word of me, you can come to me.”
“There is no boat here.”
“I’ll send the bàta-beag.”
When he had spoken, Mànus asked Donull, the younger of his mates, a lad of seventeen, to row to the shore.
“And bring back no more than one man,” he added, “whether it be Eilanmore himself or Gloom-mhic-Achanna.”