“It’s a shame to rouse you up, Pengelly, about such a fancy as mine,” said Geoffrey. “I was restless, and that made me fidget about the mine.”
“Well, sir, she’s worth fidgetting about,” said Pengelly. “Let’s go down. It won’t do any harm. There’s the two engine-men on, and it will show them that we may we expected at any time, and teach them their duty.”
Geoffrey longed to say something in his own defence to the miner, as they went along under the starlit sky, but his pride kept him silent; and, gradually growing calmer and at his ease as the fresh breeze from the sea blew upon his face, they went on and on till they began climbing the rugged path to where the engine-house stood up dim and gaunt against the sky, with its lit-up windows and door having a grotesque resemblance to the face of some fiery monster, who was uttering a low, panting roar.
They found the engine steadily working, raising and lowering the enormous rod of the series of pumps, and a steady, rushing noise told that the water was running fast.
“They’re both fast asleep,” said Pengelly. “Hallo! who’s that?”
“Where?” said Geoffrey. “I don’t see any one.”
“I’d be sworn I saw some one go away,” exclaimed Pengelly, leaping forward, but only to return to where Geoffrey stood.
“I expect it was fancy, sir; but let’s go and rouse them up. They’ve no business to be asleep.”
He led the way into the engine-house, where, by the glow from the stoke-hole fire, the two men on duty could be seen lying back on the stone bench that formed their seat, fast asleep; and, though Pengelly shook them again and again, he could only evoke a deep stertorous snore from each in turn.
“I don’t like this, sir,” said Pengelly. “Let’s take a look round.”