CHAPTER XI.
THE SHOCKIN' POWERFUL SKAME.
"I've two mamas, haven't I?" cried Ruby, between her sobs, as Mona warmed her cold limbs and kissed her.
Danny had sat on the settle and looked on with wondering eyes. He glanced from Mona's face to Ruby's, and from Ruby's back to Mona's. Some vague and startling idea was struggling its way into his sluggish mind.
The child was warm and well in a little while, and turning to Danny, Mona said, "Is it all settled that you told me of?"
"Yes," answered the lad.
"Is it to be to-day?"
"Ay; they're to go out at high-water with the line for cod, and not come back till it's time to do it." "Has any change been made in their arrangements?"
"No, 'cept that the pier bein' swept away they're to run down the lamp that the harbor-master has stuck up on a pole."
"Is it certain that Christian will not be with them?"
"Ay, full certain. They came nigh to blows over it last night."
"And you will not go, Danny?"
"No, no; when I take back the boat I'll get out of the road."
"The harbor-master is to be decoyed away to the carol-singing and the hunting of the wren?"
"Ay, Davy Cain and Tommy Tear are at that job."
"And when is it high-water to-night?"
"About eleven, but the Frenchman is meaning to run in at ten. I heard Bill say that, houldin' in his breath."
"You're quite sure about Christian?" asked Mona again.
"Aw yes, certain sure."
"Then will you come back here to-night at six o'clock, Danny?"
"Yes," said the lad, and he went out and down toward the shore.
Mona hastened with all speed to the house of Kerruish Kinvig. There in breathless haste, but in the most logical sequence, she disclosed the whole infamous scheme which was afoot to wreck a merchantman that was expected to run into port on a smuggling adventure at ten o'clock that night. This was the plot as Mona presented it to Mr. Kinvig. The harbor-master's musical weakness was to be played upon, and he was to be got out of the way, two of Kisseck's gang remaining ashore for that purpose. At midday (that was to say in two hours) Kisseck and six men were to set out in the Ben-my-Chree on pretence of line-fishing. At nine that night they were to return. Kisseck himself and three others were to put ashore in the dingy on the west coast of the Castle Isle, and there lie in wait. The other two were to take the lugger round to harbor, and in doing so were to run down the temporary light put up on the ruined end of the pier. False lights were then to be put on the south–west of the castle, and when the merchantman came up to discharge her contraband goods, she was to run on the rocks and be wrecked.
Such was the scheme as Mona expounded it. Kerruish Kinvig blustered and swore; wanted to know what the authorities were good for if private people had to bedevil themselves with these dastardly affairs. It was easy to see, however, that, despite his protestations, Mr. Kerruish, with this beautiful nut to crack and a terrific row to kick up, was in his joyful element. Away he scoured to the house of Mylrea Balladhoo, dragging Mona along with him. There the story was repeated, and various sapient suggestions were thrown out by Kinvig. Finally, and mainly at Mona's own instigation, a plan was concocted by which not only the wrecking would be prevented, but the would-be wreckers were to be captured. This was the scheme. The harbor-master was to be allowed to fall a prey to the device of the plotters. ("I'd have him in Castle Rushen, the stone-deaf scoundrel," shouted Kinvig.) Mr. Kinvig himself was to be the person to go to Castle Rushen. He was to set off at once and bring back under the darkness a posse of police or soldiers in private clothes. Eight of these were to be secreted in the ruined castle. Mona herself was to go on to the Contrary Head, and the instant the light on the pier had been run down she was to light a lamp as a signal to the police in ambush, and as a warning to the merchantman out at sea. Then the eight police were to pounce down on the wreckers lying in wait under the castle's western walls.
So it was agreed, and on a horse of Mylrea Balladhoo's Kerruish Kinvig started immediately for Castletown, taking the precaution not to pass through the town.
Mona hastened home, and there to her surprise found Danny. "The young master is to go," he cried. What had happened was this. On taking the boat back to its moorings, the lad had been making his way towards Orry's Head, as the remotest and most secluded quarter, when he passed Christian and a strange gentleman in the streets, and overheard fragments of their conversation. The stranger was protesting that he must see Christian's father. At length, and as if driven to despair, the young master said,
"Give me until to-morrow morning."
"Very good," the stranger answered, "but not an hour longer." They parted; immediately Bill Kisseck with Davy Cain and Tommy Tear came round a street corner and encountered Christian.
"I'll join you," Christian said with an oath. "When do you sail?" "In half an hour," Kisseck answered, professing himself mightily pleased to have Christian's company. Then Christian turned away, and Kisseck grunted to the men.
"It was necessary to get that chap into it, you know. His father is the magistrate, and if anything should go wrong he'll have to hush it up." The others laughed.
Danny saw that there was not a moment to lose. In half an hour the young master would be aboard the Ben-my-Chree on pretence of going out with the lines. Danny started away, but Kisseck having seen him, hailed him, and threw down a pair of sea-boots for him to pick up and take down to the boat.
"And stay there till we come," Kisseck said in going off. The errand took several of Danny's precious minutes, but, throwing the boots down the hatchways, he set off for the "brew," taking care to run along the shore this time.
Mona heard his story with horror. She had already set the police on the crew of the lugger. She could not undo what she had done. Kerruish Kinvig must be already far on his way to Castle Rushen. It was certain that every man who went out in the boat must be captured on her return. The only thing left to do was to prevent Christian going out with her at all. "He shall not go," cried Mona, and she hurried away to the quay. "He shall not go," she murmured to herself once again; but as she reached the harbor, white and breathless, she saw the Ben-my-Chree sailing out into the bay, and Christian standing on her deck.