out two hours of night."

"Because, Shane, the arms must be ready for autumn, when the harvest is
in. That's the best time for a revolution. And the arms must be
distributed. And the men must drill a little. Now is our only time."

"Hmm."

"O Shane, I wish you would be a little enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastic? At forty-nine!"

"Are you forty-nine, Shane? You don't seem thirty-nine. None could tell
but for the little gray in your hair.... And Shane...."

"Yes!"

"I like your hair rumpled a little with the sea-air ... much better than
when it is sleek in Antrim.... Shane, you don't know how well you look
on board ship."

"Ooh, be damned to that.... Mr. Janseen, get them to lay aft, and see if
you can't get a little more out of that mizzen.... A little more pocket
in the luff." ...

Section 14

They passed the Butt of Lewis, sailing due sou'west.... To port they
left the Seven Hunters, changing the course to sou'west by sou'.... The
Hebrides passed them like islands in a dream, purple, gleaming strangely
in the sunlight, now a black shower whipping over them, now sunshine
pouring in great floods.... Lewis went by, and then Harris.... North
Uist where the winds blow so hard they have an old word: _Is traugh fear
na droiche air mhachair Uistibh_: 'Tis a pity of the slut's husband on
the plains of Uist.... You'll be needing buttons on your coat there....
They passed Rona of the Seals, and Benbecula.... They passed South Uist
and Eriskay.... They passed the Ponboy Isles.... The islands of the Cat
they called them in Gaelic.... Faintly they saw the mists of Hecla ...
heard the curlews.... They saw fishing-boats with great brown sails....

Honk-honk of wild ganders in the distance, and occasionally the _chugh_
of a diving bird.... The wind blew from the nor'west.... The foam
snarled beneath the bows....

"I don't like it.... I don't like it...."

"Shane, it is wonderful.... God is with us."

"Hunh...." He saw the weather leaches flick.... "Don't let her come up,"
he roared at the helmsman. "Steer her, you Swede bastard.... Where the
hell did you ever steer before? On a canal?"

"Shane!"

"What is it, Granya?"

"Your language, Shane!"

"Listen, Granya.... I'm not playing a comedy.... I'm sailing a ship ...
that's on an errand I don't like.... If you don't like my language, get
below...."

"Sorry, Shane!" She said with a meek courtesy. She stayed....

They passed Skerryvore.... They passed Dhu Heartach,