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," said Ransome, "I am not a man of science, but I have got eyes, and I see the water is very high, and driving against your weak part. Ah!" Then he remembered Little's advice. "Would you mind opening the sluice-pipes?"
"Not in the least, but I think it is the engineer's business to give an order of that kind."
"But he is not here, and professional etiquette must give way where property and lives, perhaps, are at stake. To tell you the truth, Mr. Mountain, I have got the advice of an abler man than Mr. Tucker.
His word to me was, 'If the water is as high as they say, don't waste time, but open the sluices and relieve the dam.'"
The workmen who had said scarcely a word till then, raised an assenting murmur at the voice of common sense.
Mountain admitted it could do no harm, and gave an order accordingly; screws wore applied and the valves of the double set of sluice-pipes were forced open, but with infinite difficulty, owing to the tremendous pressure of the water.
This operation showed all concerned what a giant they were dealing with; while the sluices were being lifted, the noise and tremor of the pipes were beyond experience and conception. When, after vast efforts, they were at last got open, the ground trembled violently, and the water, as it rushed out of the pipes, roared like discharges of artillery. So hard is it to resist the mere effect of the senses, that nearly every body ran back appalled, although the effect of all this roaring could only be to relieve the pressure; and, in fact, now that those sluices were opened, the dam was safe, provided it could last a day or two.
Lights were seen approaching, and Mr. Tucker, the resident engineer, drove up; he had Mr. Carter, one of the contractors, in the gig with him.
He came on the embankment, and signified a cold approval of the sluices being opened.
Then Ransome sounded him about blowing up the waste-wear.
Tucker did not reply, but put some questions to a workman or two.
Their answers showed that they considered the enlargement of the crack a fatal sign.
Upon this Mr. Tucker ordered them all to stand clear of the suspected part.
"Now, then," said he, "I built this embankment, and I'll tell you whether it is going to burst or not."
Then he took a lantern, and was going to inspect the crack himself; but Mr. Carter, respecting his courage and coolness, would accompany him. They went to the crack, examined it carefully with their lanterns, and then crossed over to the waste-wear; no water was running into it in the ordinary way, which showed the dam was not full to its utmost capacity.
They returned, and consulted with Mountain.
Ransome put in his word, and once more remembering Little's advice, begged them to blow up the waste-wear.
Tucker thought that was a stronger measure than the occasion required; there was no immediate danger; and the sluice-pipes would lower the water considerably in twenty-four hours.
Farmer Ives put in his word. "I can't learn from any of you that an enlarging crack in a new embankment is a common thing. I shall go home, but my boots won't come off this night."
Encouraged by this, Mr. Mountain, the contractor, spoke out.
"Mr. Tucker," said he, "don't deceive yourself; the sluice-pipes are too slow; if we don't relieve the dam, there'll be a blow-up in half an hour; mark my words."