Johnny’s boat had turned for home. The others passed and passed again around the rocks. A few timbers floated on the swell, but the ship was gone. “Danu hold you in her hand and bring you safe to shore,” I murmured. “And if it is your time to go, Morrigan guide you through the gateway. May light shine on your path; may you walk on without fear.”

After a while Fang crept up beside me and settled, nose on paws, keeping her own vigil. Dogs were not allowed on Inis Eala. For this unlikely creature an exception had been made. The story went that she had been brought back from a mission by the intimidating Snake, a man whom one would expect to see accompanied by a fearsome wolfhound or barrel-chested fighting dog, not a tiny, temperamental ball of white fluff. I hoped I would hear the full tale of how it had happened before my visit here was over.

“You’re a lucky girl, Fang,” I murmured, scratching her behind the ears. A subterranean growl rumbled through her small form, and I drew my fingers away. Fang’s moods were legendary, as changeable as spring weather. “You fell on your feet, from the sound of it.”

Snake was away, along with a party of fifteen men, undertaking a mission for a chieftain in the south. They had taken the largest of the Inis Eala boats, which made today’s rescue effort slower than it might have been. Johnny’s boat was halfway back now. Four men were rowing, my cousin among them, while Evan was in the stern, his arm around a man swathed in a big cloak. Only one. And now another of the island boats had turned for home. The crew had raised a rudimentary sail. I could not see whether this vessel carried survivors. The others maintained their pattern, searching.

I slowed my breathing, calming my wayward thoughts. I tried to set aside those anguished voices. I told myself that the rescue effort had got under way quickly, that the crew of such a ship would be fit, capable men, that many would be saved. More folk were heading down to the shore now, carrying stretchers, blankets. Johnny’s boat came in to the jetty. Johnny threw a rope to Cathal, who secured the craft. The man in the cloak was helped onto the jetty. He refused a stretcher and began to climb the path with Evan on one side and Cathal on the other. The survivor was a strong-looking person of middle height, squarely built, with hair that would be fair when dry. His skin was ashen, and despite the courage that saw him attempt the path on foot, he was plainly exhausted.