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.)
