“And by the same token, Anne,” he said, “your oaths will come to nought.” Rising, he made a sign to his brothers to follow. When they were outside he told Sheumais to return, and to keep Anne within, by peace if possible--by force if not. Briefly they discussed their plans, and then separated. While Sheumais went back, Marcus and Gloom made their way to the haven. Their black figures were visible in the moonlight, but at first they were not noticed by the men on board the _Luath_, for Mànus was singing. When the isleman stopped abruptly, one of his companions asked him jokingly if his song had brought a seal alongside, and bid him beware lest it was a woman of the sea-people. He gloomed morosely, but made no reply. When the others listened, they heard the wild strain of the Dàn-nan-Ròn stealing through the moonshine. Staring against the shore, they could discern the two brothers. “What will be the meaning of that?” asked one of the men uneasily. “When a man comes instead of a woman,” answered Mànus slowly, “the young corbies are astir in the nest.” So, it meant blood. Aulay MacNeill and Donull MacDonull put down their gear, rose, and stood waiting for what Mànus would do. “Ho, there!” he cried. “Ho-ro!” “What will you be wanting, Eilanmore?” “We are wanting a word of you, Mànus MacCodrum. Will you come ashore?” “If you want a word of me, you can come to me.” “There is no boat here.” “I’ll send the _bàta-beag_.” When he had spoken, Mànus asked Donull, the younger of his mates, a lad of seventeen, to row to the shore. “And bring back no more than one man,” he added, “whether it be Eilanmore himself or Gloom-mhic-Achanna.” The rope of the small boat was unfastened, and Donull rowed it swiftly through the moonshine. The passing of a cloud dusked the shore, but they saw him throw a rope for the guiding of the boat alongside the ledge of the landing-place; then the sudden darkening obscured the vision. Donull must be talking, they thought; for two or three minutes elapsed without sign: but at last the boat put off again, and with two figures only. Doubtless the lad had had to argue against the coming of both Marcus and Gloom. This, in truth, was what Donull had done. But while he was speaking, Marcus was staring fixedly beyond him. “Who is it that is there?” he asked; “there, in the stern?” “There is no one there.” “I thought I saw the shadow of a man.” “Then it was my shadow, Eilanmore.” Achanna turned to his brother. “I see a man’s death there in the boat.” Gloom quailed for a moment, then laughed low. “I see no death of a man sitting in the boat, Marcus; but if I did, I am thinking it would dance to the air of the Dàn-nan-Ròn, which is more than the wraith of you or me would do.” “It is not a wraith I was seeing, but the death of a man.”