– but we sailed into waters patrolled by Barbary pirates, and they took a liking to us. So, just after I’d bore Tibbot, it was back above deck to see ‘em off.
“Take this from unconsecrated hands!” I said, and gave their officers one from our cannon. Well they didn’t like that. Off they went, leaving their ships behind as ransom, of course.
Now I wish I could say that men foolhardy enough to underestimate me existed only beyond our Emerald shores, but alas there are many here in Ireland that have lived to regret doing so.
One such confrontation occurred on the road home from one of my visits to the Lord Deputy in Dublin. I had stopped at the port of Howth to replenish provisions before returning to Mayo, andthought it only polite to call on the Earl St. Lawrence for dinner.
He did not feel the same way.
I was told that he ‘could not be disturbed’ – and the gates locked, no less. The cheek! Well, I did not take well to this as you can well imagine. I was making my way back to my ship, mind racing for a way to level the score, when fate dealt me yet another kind hand. Who should happen upon our path, but the Earl’s grandson!If the Earl wouldn’t leave open his precious gates for a visiting Pirate Queen, he certainly would for a kidnapped grandson. Almost tripped over himself he did to pay any ransom I demanded. Lucky for him I wanted nothing more than to give him a lesson in hospitality. And so the gates to the Castle remain open and an extra place is always set in the dining room for anyone seeking hospitality to this very day. You’re welcome.
Of course, this all sounds like fun and games now, but while I was occupied with settling scores and stealing grandsons, the English invaders closed in, crushing Ireland under their thumb. One man in particular, a real mean old dog – Richard Bingham, the Lord President of Connaught. The old devil took my eldest, Eoghan, from me, and to add insult to injury told his pretty Queen Elizabeth I. was