She's All the World to Me Part 13

"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 sh.o.r.e.

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 ash.o.r.e for that purpose. At mid-day (that was to say in two hours) Kisseck and six men were to set out in the "Ben-my-Chree" on pretense of line-fishing. At nine that night they were to return. Kisseck himself and three others were to put ash.o.r.e 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 southwest 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 bl.u.s.tered 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 pa.s.s 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 toward Orry's Head, as the remotest and most secluded quarter, when he pa.s.sed 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 pretense 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 sh.o.r.e 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.

CHAPTER XII

STRONG KNOTS OF LOVE

At six o'clock the night had closed in. It was as black as ink. Not a star had appeared, but a sharp southwest wind was blowing, and the night might lighten later on. In the cottage on the "brew" a bright turf-fire was burning, and it filled the kitchen with a ruddy glow. Little Ruby was playing on a sheep-skin before the hearth. Old Mrs. Cregeen sat knitting in an armchair at one side of the ingle. Her grave face, always touching to look at, seemed more than ever drawn down with lines of pain. Every few minutes she stopped to listen for footsteps that did not come, or to gaze vacantly into the fire. Mona was standing at a table cutting slices of bread-and-b.u.t.ter. At some moments her lips quivered with agitation, but she held the knife with the steady grasp of a man's hand. Pale and quiet, with the courage and resolution on every feature, this was the woman for a great emergency. And her hour was at hand.

Heaven grant that her fort.i.tude may not desert her to-night. She needs it all.

A white face, with eyes full of fear, looked in at the dark window. It was Danny Fayle. "Come in," said Mona; but he would not come. He must speak with her outside. She went out to him. He was trembling with excitement. He told her that Kerruish Kinvig had returned, and brought with him the men from Castle Rushen. There were eight of them. They had been across to the old castle and had opened a vault in St. Patrick's chapel. There they had found rolls of thread lace, casks of wines and spirits, and boxes of tea. This was not important, but Danny had one fact to communicate which made Mona's excitement almost equal to his own. In a single particular the arrangement suggested by herself and agreed upon with Mylrea, the magistrate, had been altered. Instead of the whole eight men going over to the castle, four only, with Kinvig as guide, were to be stationed there. The other four were to be placed on the hill-side above Bill Kisseck's house to watch it.

This change was an unexpected and almost fatal blow to the scheme which Mona had all day been concocting for the relief of the men on the "Ben-my-Chree" from the meshes in which she herself had imprisoned them.

Mona's anxiety was greatest now that her hope seemed least. Rescue the men--Christian being one of them--she must, G.o.d helping her. Like a sorceress, whose charm has worked only too fatally, Mona's whole soul was engaged to break her own deadly spell. She conceived a means of escape, but she could not without help bring her design to bear. Would this lad help her? Danny? She had seen the agony of his despair wither up the last gleam of sunshine on his poor, helpless face.

"Did you say that Mr. Kinvig is to be with the men in the castle?"

"Yes," said Danny.

"Is Mr. Mylrea to be with others above your uncle's house?"

"No. They wanted him, but he was too old, he was sayin', and went off to find Christian and send him to be a guide to the strangers."

"That is very good," said Mona, "and we can manage it yet. Danny, do you go off to the castle--the tide is down; you can ford it, can't you?"

"If I'm quick. It's on the turn."

"Go at once. The men are not there now, are they?"

"No, they came across half an hour ago."

"Good. They'll return to the castle just before nine. Go you at this moment. Ford it, and they'll see no boat. Hide yourself among the ruins--in the guard-room--in the long pa.s.sage--in the cell under the cathedral--in the sally-port--among the rocks outside--anywhere--and wait until the Castle Rushen men arrive. As soon as they are landed and out of sight, get you down to where they have moored their boat, jump into it and pull away. That will cut off five of the nine, and keep them prisoners on the Castle Rock until to-morrow morning's ebb tide."

"But where am I to go in the boat?" asked Danny.

Mona came closer. "Isn't it true," she whispered, "that Kisseck and the rest of them go frequently to the creek that they call the Lockjaw?"

"How did you know it, Mona?"

"Never mind, now, Danny. Do you pull down to the Lockjaw; run ash.o.r.e there; climb the brow above, and wait."