Free Cave of Secrets by Morgan Llywelyn Page A

that, girsha .’
    ‘You were praying to Him just now. I saw your lips move. Ask Him to make it go away.’
    Bríd twined the child’s silky curls around her fingers. ‘I am asking Him for too much already,’ she said. ‘I am praying for the lives of all the people on the sea today. That is a fierce storm coming. Ships may be blown onto the rocks, or overturned by the gale, and the poor people will struggle in the water, choking and gasping, until it pulls them down. Och, that is a terrible death!’
    Maura pulled free of her mother’s caress. ‘Why do peoplebe on ships?’ she asked reasonably.
    ‘Some men cannot stay in one place forever, like a tree on its roots,’ Bríd explained. ‘The need for movement is in them. Ships take them where they could not go on their feet.’
    ‘They should stay home,’ Maura declared with conviction.
    From the other side of the hearth Donal said, ‘If he did not go smuggling, would our father stay home?’
    ‘He would not, and why should he? My husband is a warrior like his father’s fathers. He would go into the mountains and join the rebel chieftains.’
    Donal’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Would he be fighting the Sasanach then?’
    ‘Muiris is fighting the Sasanach now,’ Bríd replied calmly.
    Maura said, ‘The stuff he takes is worth a lot of money. He hurts the Sasanach somefin’ awful, ’cos they love money more than anyfing.’
    Her mother’s shoulders shook with laughter.
    Muiris entered the cabin, brushing the rain from his clothes. ‘Why are you laughing?’
    His wife said, ‘Your daughter has the clearest eyes of any of us.’
    ‘I know that,’ he replied as he bent down and gathered Maura into his arms. ‘When I need someone to tell me the truth, I ask this little one.’
    * * *
    As it always did, the storm finally blew itself out. The following day was gilded with late summer. Deep blue water reflected deep blue sky. The formerly furious wind was peacefully employed in filling the sails of countless vessels. They glided across the bay and around the coast of Ireland.
    As he drew near the cliffs, Tom squinted to see better. Even the nearest small boat was too far away for him to recognise the occupants. The great ships that braved the trade routes from Africa and Spain were no more than dots on the horizon . He wondered if one of them would be waiting at Cobh when his father arrived.
    Would there be pirates lurking along the way?
    Tom was almost sorry Muiris was not a pirate. He could imagine the two men facing one another on the deck of a ship. William Flynn would lose all his bluster then. Muiris would not hurt him – of course not! – but he would make him feel helpless. Perhaps Muiris would even say, ‘Tomás is my man now.’
    Donal was not waiting in the cove. Sure of his welcome, Tom struck out for the settlement in the valley. He found Donal and Maura beside the river, scrubbing a cooking pot with sand. ‘Tomflynn!’ the little girl cried when she saw him. ‘Did you hear the storm last night, Tomflynn?’
    ‘It was ferocious,’ he replied.
    ‘F’rocious,’ she agreed. ‘I hate thumble.’
    ‘She means thunder,’ explained Donal.
    Maura glared at her brother. ‘That’s what I said! What do you hate, Tomflynn?’
    ‘Cold feet, I suppose. And biting flies. What about you, Donal?’
    ‘I hate the Sasanach .’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because they hate us.’
    Tom spent the day with Donal and his family. The two boys were sent to cut reeds for mending a section of damaged thatch on one of the cabins. Tom discovered that all reeds are not the same. Young green ones were useless for thatching, as were those that had died and gone brown and brittle. ‘Reeds have to be mature but have plenty of life left in them,’ Donal explained, ‘because they must last for a long time.’
    When that task was completed Bríd brought out a large sack of dried furze. She showed Tom how to cut and fold the spiky plants into neat, flat parcels called