Put Yourself in His Place [255]
to be seen about. But, after all, I suppose they can empty the dam, if need be; and, of course, they will, if there is any danger. I expect Mr. Tucker up every minute."
Ransome thanked him for his information and pushed on to Lower Hatfield: there he found lights in the houses and the inhabitants astir; but he passed through the village in silence, and came to the great corn-mill, a massive stone structure with granite pillars, the pride of the place. The building was full of lights, and the cranes were all at work hoisting the sacks of flour from the lower floors to the top story. The faces of the men reflected in the flaring gas, and the black cranes with their gaunt arms, and the dark bodies rising by the snake-like cords, formed a curious picture in the fluctuating moonlight, and an interesting one too; for it showed the miller did not feel his flour quite safe.
The next place Ransome came to was Fox Farm.
Farmer Emden was standing at the door of his house, and, in reply to Ransome, told him he had just come down from the reservoir. He had seen the crack and believed it to be a mere frost crack. He apprehended no danger, and had sent his people to bed; however, he should sit up for an hour or two just to hear what Tucker the engineer had to say about it; he had been sent for.
Ransome left him, and a smart canter brought him in sight of what seemed a long black hill, with great glow-worms dotted here and there.
That hill was the embankment, and the glow-worms were the lanterns of workmen examining the outer side of the embankment and prying into every part.
The enormous size and double slope of the bank, its apparent similarity in form and thickness to those natural barriers with which nature hems in lakes of large dimensions, acted on Ransome's senses, and set him wondering at the timidity and credulity of the people in Hatfield and Damflask. This sentiment was uppermost in his mind when he rode up to the south side of the embankment.
He gave his horse to a boy, and got upon the embankment and looked north.
The first glance at the water somewhat shook that impression of absolute security the outer side of the barrier had given him.
In nature a lake lies at the knees of the restraining hills, or else has a sufficient outlet.
But here was a lake nearly full to the brim on one side of the barrier and an open descent on the other.
He had encountered a little wind coming up, but not much; here, however, the place being entirely exposed, the wind was powerful and blew right down the valley ruffling the artificial lake.
Altogether it was a solemn scene, and, even at first glance, one that could not be surveyed, after all those comments and reports, without some awe and anxiety. The surface of the lake shone like a mirror, and waves of some size dashed against the embankment with a louder roar than one would have thought possible, and tossed some spray clean over all; while, overhead, clouds, less fleecy now, and more dark and sullen, drifted so swiftly across the crescent moon that she seemed flying across the sky.
Having now realized that the embankment, huge as it was, was not so high by several hundred feet as nature builds in parallel cases, and that, besides the natural pressure of the whole water, the upper surface of the lake was being driven by the wind against the upper or thin part of the embankment, Ransome turned and went down the embankment to look at the crack and hear opinions.
There were several workmen, an intelligent farmer called Ives, and Mr. Mountain, one of the contractors who had built the dam, all examining the crack.
Mr. Mountain was remarking that the crack was perfectly dry, a plain proof there was no danger.
"Ay, but," said Ives, "it has got larger since tea-time; see, I can get my hand in now."
"Can you account for that?" asked Ransome of the contractor.
Mountain said it was caused by the embankment settling. "Everything settles down a little--houses and embankments and all. There's no danger, Mr. Ransome, believe me."
"Well, sir,"
Ransome thanked him for his information and pushed on to Lower Hatfield: there he found lights in the houses and the inhabitants astir; but he passed through the village in silence, and came to the great corn-mill, a massive stone structure with granite pillars, the pride of the place. The building was full of lights, and the cranes were all at work hoisting the sacks of flour from the lower floors to the top story. The faces of the men reflected in the flaring gas, and the black cranes with their gaunt arms, and the dark bodies rising by the snake-like cords, formed a curious picture in the fluctuating moonlight, and an interesting one too; for it showed the miller did not feel his flour quite safe.
The next place Ransome came to was Fox Farm.
Farmer Emden was standing at the door of his house, and, in reply to Ransome, told him he had just come down from the reservoir. He had seen the crack and believed it to be a mere frost crack. He apprehended no danger, and had sent his people to bed; however, he should sit up for an hour or two just to hear what Tucker the engineer had to say about it; he had been sent for.
Ransome left him, and a smart canter brought him in sight of what seemed a long black hill, with great glow-worms dotted here and there.
That hill was the embankment, and the glow-worms were the lanterns of workmen examining the outer side of the embankment and prying into every part.
The enormous size and double slope of the bank, its apparent similarity in form and thickness to those natural barriers with which nature hems in lakes of large dimensions, acted on Ransome's senses, and set him wondering at the timidity and credulity of the people in Hatfield and Damflask. This sentiment was uppermost in his mind when he rode up to the south side of the embankment.
He gave his horse to a boy, and got upon the embankment and looked north.
The first glance at the water somewhat shook that impression of absolute security the outer side of the barrier had given him.
In nature a lake lies at the knees of the restraining hills, or else has a sufficient outlet.
But here was a lake nearly full to the brim on one side of the barrier and an open descent on the other.
He had encountered a little wind coming up, but not much; here, however, the place being entirely exposed, the wind was powerful and blew right down the valley ruffling the artificial lake.
Altogether it was a solemn scene, and, even at first glance, one that could not be surveyed, after all those comments and reports, without some awe and anxiety. The surface of the lake shone like a mirror, and waves of some size dashed against the embankment with a louder roar than one would have thought possible, and tossed some spray clean over all; while, overhead, clouds, less fleecy now, and more dark and sullen, drifted so swiftly across the crescent moon that she seemed flying across the sky.
Having now realized that the embankment, huge as it was, was not so high by several hundred feet as nature builds in parallel cases, and that, besides the natural pressure of the whole water, the upper surface of the lake was being driven by the wind against the upper or thin part of the embankment, Ransome turned and went down the embankment to look at the crack and hear opinions.
There were several workmen, an intelligent farmer called Ives, and Mr. Mountain, one of the contractors who had built the dam, all examining the crack.
Mr. Mountain was remarking that the crack was perfectly dry, a plain proof there was no danger.
"Ay, but," said Ives, "it has got larger since tea-time; see, I can get my hand in now."
"Can you account for that?" asked Ransome of the contractor.
Mountain said it was caused by the embankment settling. "Everything settles down a little--houses and embankments and all. There's no danger, Mr. Ransome, believe me."
"Well, sir,"