At the sight of her the curiosity I had felt, but which my poor mother's message had driven from my head, revived.
Who and what was she?
and what was she doing in Lough Swilly?
Then I recalled the strange words his honour had spoken last night in my hearing, about the arms being landed and stowed.

And I remembered hearing some talk among the fisher folk of foreign weapons being smuggled into Ireland against the king's law, and of foreign soldiers coming, to help the people to tight against his Majesty.
I was too young to understand what it all meant, or why his Majesty was to be fought with; for we were comfortable enough in our little cabin, what with the sheep and my mother's savings, and my father's fish, and the little that Tim and I could earn ferrying passengers over the lough.
I was too young, I say, to know what wanted altering, but the sight of this queer-looking craft set me thinking about it.
"Get out your oar," said his honour suddenly, letting the sheet fly, and running the boat into the creek.
My heart sank, for I hoped we were going across to where my poor mother lay.
I got out the oar, and paddled the boat into the creek till we came up to the stern of the cutter.

_Cigale_--that was her name, painted on the stern-board; but there was nothing to show her port or the flag she flew.
At the sound of our bows grating on her side one of her crew ran aft and looked over.

He had a strange foreign appearance in his red cap, and curls, and white teeth, and looked like some startled animal about to spring on us.

But his honour shouted something in French, and the man scrambled over the side of the cutter with a grin and jumped lightly into our boat, talking rapidly all the while.
I do not think Mr Gorman understood all he said, for he presently ordered the man to hold his peace, and stepped ashore, beckoning me to follow him.
I obeyed after making fast the painter.