As the O’Malley left the chapel with his brother, his five older
daughters trailing in their wake, he did not relinquish his hold on
the infant. The bond between Skye and her father had been formed.
And when Peigi O’Malley’s milk refused to come in, he chose the
wet nurse himself-a healthy, pretty farmgirl whose bastard had
been strangled by its umbilical cord.

Six months later Dubhdara O’Malley departed on a seagoing
expedition which would keep him away from Ireland for several
months. To his priestly brother’s outrage, he took baby Skye and
her wet nurse, Megi, with him. “You’re a disgrace to the family,
Dubhdara O’Malley! What the devil will people say about Megi?
And if that’s not bad enough, you’re endangering the child! I’ll not
have Skye harmed,” roared the doting uncle.

The O’Malley laughed. “Stow your gab, Seamus! I’m not endangering Skye. She’s already gone sailing with me for a day or so.
She likes being on my ship. As to Megi, I would be endangering
Skye if I did not take her along. Megi’s milk is better for Skye than
a goat’s, which is the only alternative.”

“And I suppose you’ll deny you’ve been fucking with Megi.”

“No, I’ll not deny it. You know I like all the comforts.”

The priest threw up his hands in despair. There was nothing he
could do with his brother. Dubh was the most carnal man he knew.
Well, one good thing would come of it. At least poor Peigi would
be safe from her husband’s lust for the time being.

In the summer of 1541 the O’Malley of Innisfana sailed out of
his stronghold on Innisfana Island, into the western seas. It was the
first of Skye’s many voyages. She took her first tottering steps on
the heaving deck of her father’s ship. Her small baby teeth cut marks
into the ship’s wheel. While her wet nurse, Megi, cowered in her
bunk, fighting seasickness and praying she wouldn’t drown, Skye
O’Malley clapped her fat baby hands and laughed at the storms.