When the boats reached land, then was Mac cecht a-striking fire in Dá Derga's Hostel. At the sound of the spark the thrice fifty boats were hurled out, so that they were on the shoulders of the sea.
‘Be silent a while!’ said Ingcél. ‘Liken thou that, O Fer rogain.’
‘I know not,’ answers Fer rogain, ‘unless it is Luchdonn the satirist in Emain Macha31, who makes this hand-smiting when his food is taken from him perforce: or the scream of Luchdonn in Temair Luachra: or Mac cecht's striking a spark, when he kindles a fire before a king of Erin where he sleeps. Every spark and every shower which his fire would let fall on the floor would broil a hundred calves and two half-pigs.’
‘May God not bring that man even Conaire there tonight!’ say Donn Dés's sons. ‘Sad that he is under the hurt of foes!’
‘Meseems,’ says Ingcél, ‘it should be no sadder for me than the destruction I gave you. This were my feast that he (Conaire) should chance to come there.’