So unusually circumstanced from his very birth had been the life of Polaris Janess that he long before had accepted and made his own the philosophy which the Prince of Denmark taught to Horatio. Things that the ordinary man would scoff at and reject as preposterous had been the incidents of his everyday existence. So now the extraordinary declaration of him who named himself Oleric the Red did not move him to any great show of surprise.
Instead, there came to him the sorrowful vision of the good gray cruiser, sundered and wrecked and going down to the ocean's bed, bearing with her many a man whom he had been glad to call his friend—men who twice had risked their lives in the antarctic perils that others might live. With that picture in his mind came a thought that drove all the mists from his brain and made it burn with a sense of outrage and anger.
He snapped himself erect, and with hands clenched and blazing eyes looked down on Oleric.
"The breaking of the good ship yonder came not from within, but from without," he said sternly. "That great ray of strange light that cut her like a knife was some devil's device of these that you call fademes. Is it not true?"
Over the face of Oleric passed a shadow that made it sad. But his eyes were steadfast and unflinching.
"It is true," he answered. "I would have prevented it if I could have. Your ship has gone the way of all others which have come to the coasts of Maeronica."
"Is it, then, the custom of your 'great king' so to greet strangers who come to his shores?" asked Polaris.
"Such have been the orders of the king of Maeronica," replied Oleric. "Many a long century has rolled into the past since any ship, save the fademes, cast anchor in the harbor of the city of Adlaz. It is the law. It is so writ upon the sacred column. But it is a bad law."
"An hour ago we had not guessed of the existence even of this land of Maeronica of yours, with its city of Adlaz and its rule of death in the sea," said Polaris. "All that we asked was to go our ways in peace and a safe journey to America. Now, because of the evil law of an evil land, a great ship's company is food for the fishes. You say well that it is a bad law.
"And, hark you, Oleric the Red, I count the reckoning between this King Bel-Ar of yours and me as both long and heavy. I do not know how it will fall about, or when; but my heart tells me that some time I shall make settlement of that score."