“Is this serious?” I asked Jubal. “Isn’t there a good way of getting rid of surplus water?”
He gave me a withering look. “Where are we if we lose control?” he demanded. “If this thing here runs away with us, the combined waters of Victoria and Tanganyika will flood down into the Congo.”
Even as he spoke, the bank to the south of the escaping waters crumbled; several yards were swept away, their places instantly taken by the current.
We flew back to Mokulgu. Jubal visioned the mayor and got permission to broadcast to the city. I did not hear him speak; reaction had set in, and I had to go and sit quietly at home with Sloe fussing daintily round me. Although you “know” from a child that Earth is a planet, it is only when you drift towards it from space, seeing it hang round and finite ahead, that you can realize the fact. And so, although I had always “known” man was puny, it was the sight of that vast collapsing slab of mountain which had driven the fact into my marrow.
To guess the sort of sentiments Jubal broadcast to the city was easy. He would talk of “rallying round in this our time of crisis”. He would speak of the need for “all hands uniting against our ancient enemy, Nature”. He would come over big on the tanks; he would be big, his fists clenched, his eyes ablaze. He was in touch with the people. And they would do what he said, for Jubal carried conviction. Perhaps I envied my half-brother.
Labour and supplies began to pour north to mend the damaged bank. Jubal, meanwhile, thought up a typically flamboyant scheme. Tilly, one of the lake steamers, was pressed into service and loaded full of rock and clay by steam shovel. With Jubal standing on the bridge, it was mance-vered into the centre of the danger area and scuttled. Half in and half out of the rushing water, it now former a base from which a new dam could be built to stem the flood. Watched by a cheering crowd, Jubal and crew skimmed to safety in a motor boat.
“We shall conquer if we have to dam the water with our bodies,” he cried. A thousand cheering throats told him how much they liked this idea.
The pitch of crisis which had then been engendered was maintained all through the next two days. For most of that time it rained, and men fought to erect their barrier on clinging mud. Jubal’s popularityand consequently his in-fluenceunderwent a rapid diminution. The reason for this was two-fold. He quarrelled with J-Casta, whose suggestion to throw open the new dam to relieve pressure elsewhere was refused, and he ran into stiff opposition from Mokulgu Town Council.
This august body, composed of the avariciously successful and the successfully avaricious, was annoyed about Tilly. Tilly belonged to the local government, and Jubal had, in effect, stolen it. The men from the factories who had downed tools to fight the water were summoned back to work; the Dam Authority must tend its own affairs.
Jubal merely sneered at this dangerous pique and visioned LeopoldviUe. In the briefest possible time, be had the army helping him.
It was at dawn on the morning of the third day that he visioned me to go down and see him. I said adieu to Sloe and took a float over to Ulatuama.
Jubal stood alone by the water’s edge. The sun was still swathed in mist, and he looked cold and pinched. Behind him, dimly outlined figures moved to and fro, like allegorical figures on a frieze. He surveyed me curiously before speaking.
“The work’s nearly done, Rog,” he said. He looked as if he needed sleep, but he added energetically, pointing across the lake: “Then we tackle the main job of plugging that waterfall.”
I looked across the silent lake. The far shore was invisible, but out of the layers of mist rose Mount Kangosi. Even at this distance, in the early morning hush, came the faint roar of the new waterfall. And there was another sound, intermit-tent but persistent: beyond the mountain, they were bombing fault lines. That way they hoped to cause a collapse which would plug Victoria’s escape routes. So far, they had had no success, but the bombing went on, making abattfefield of what had once been glorious country.