Aunt Leslie’s voice brought Brian’s eyes back to the two men still talking with Uncle Tom. “How are the sandwiches, Brian?”
“Who are they?”
“Calum and Uilleam. They run the ferry that takes us to the island. They’re going to take us across.”
Uncle Tom and the two men grunted something then laughed. He returned to the Forester. “Mach an – ” He shook his head. “Sorry, Brian. We’re going to have to teach you some Gaelic. Everybody out. They’re loading the car.”
The younger of the two men came over to Brian, a big smile on his sea-reddened face and a huge, roughskinned, lobsterclaw of a hand held out in front of him. He took off his cap and long blonde hair fell down to his shoulders. “Is mise Uilleam. Dè an tainm a th’ort?” His voice was higher than Uncle Tom’s but there was something more behind it, a power like the wind, and for a second Brian grew afraid without knowing why.
The man stood over him like a wall. Color left Brian’s face as he looked down and shook his head. The man kneeled, still smiling, and crouched until he met Brian’s eyes. “Cò thu sa?”
Brian stepped back without meeting Uilleam’s eyes. “Can he speak English?”
Aunt Leslie answered, “Ask him, Brian.”
Uilleam rose and put his cap back on. “Tha e an aghaidh an t-saoghail gu leír.” he said over his shoulder.
“Tha,” Leslie said.
“What did he say?”
Tom said, “He thinks you’re a wonderfully intelligent young man.”
“Huh?”
“And you’ll be damn lucky if he doesn’t throw you over the gunwhale when we’re over the deepest part of the sea.”
Uilleam laughed and clapped his hands. Calum smiled then called Uilleam back to him. Aunt Leslie shook her head. “He introduced himself and asked your name, then said you seemed upset. Uncle Tom’s teasing you, Brian. We wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt you on the island.”
Uncle Tom winked at Brian. “Yeah, but we’re not on the island yet.”
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