"'I don't want to bring off the poor people, Shamus-a-Feeba, James of the Pipes. But there's not a rock, a wind, a current, a wave itself of Struth na-Maoile that I don't know. I'm figuring on rigging up some kind of sea-anchor,' says Alan Donn, says he, 'and getting the ignorant foreigners to chop their gear overboard, and riding the storm out. Don't worry yourself, Shamus-a-Feeba.' "That was the way of your uncle, Alan Donn Campbell. He was very rough with the strong, but he was ay considerate of the old and over-young. He'd be rough with the king of England but he'd be awfu' polite to an ould man." "God, is Alan Donn dead?" Shane was near tears. "Do people like Alan Donn die?" "Aye, they die, too," said Simon Fraser. "And rogues live. It's queer. "The boat was a'ready to be put into the sea, when your uncle sees mysel' on the edge o' the gathering. He comes straight to me. You mind how Alan Donn used to go through a crowd. "'Are you the sailing man,' says he, 'wha's a half-brither to Red Tam McNeil of the Ten-Acre?'" "'I am, sir, Alan Donn.' "'Is it go wi' ye in the boat?' says I. 'I'll go.' "'No, no,' quo' he. 'It's no' that. So'thin' different. You ken my brither's son, Shane Oge Campbell, wha's a master on the seas?' "'I've met him once or twice, and I've heard tell.' "'If you see him, gi'e him a message. I'm sure you'll see him. I'm sure,' says Alan Donn, 'this morn I'm fey.' "'Tell him,' says Alan Donn, and he puts his hand on my shoulder. 'Tell him this: I've been intending to write him this long time. There's a thought in my head,' says he, 'that all's not well with him. "'Tell him this: I've been thinking and I've thought: There's great virtue to the place you're born in. Tell him he ought no' stay so long frae the braes o' Ulster. Tell him: The sea's not good for the head. A man's alone wi' himself too long, wi' his ain heid. Tell him that's not good. "'Tell him,' says he, 'there's great virtue and grand soothin' to the yellow whins and the purple heather. That's a deep fey thing. Tell him to try.' "'Is that all, sir, Alan Donn,' says I? "'You might tell him,' says he, 'aye, you might tell him: "'Your uncle Alan was not a coward, and he was a wise man."' "At that I was puzzled--I tell you without, offense meant--it sounded like boasting. And it was no' like Alan Donn to boast. "'Can I come along wi' you, sir, Alan Donn?' says I. "With that he gies me a look would knock you down. 'Did na I tell you to do so'thin' for me?' says he. "Then I kent he was na coming back. "'Aye, aye, sir,' said I.