“You are indeed unfortunate to land upon the shore of Faytan,” said he. “It means death to all of you.”
“Not necessarily,” I returned, coolly. “For my part, I expect to live a long time yet.”
“You do not understand,” he persisted gently. “It is the law of the island—the law of my forefathers—that all strangers who land upon Faytan shall be put to death.”
“A cruel law,” I remarked; “and an unjust one.”
“It is to protect us from invasion,” he explained in a kindly tone. “This is the richest island in all the world, and the most favored by nature. My people are the bravest and strongest of mankind. No other nation can at all compare with this, for we are protected and favored by the powerful Pearl God.” As he mentioned this deity all the Faytans present prostrated themselves, muttering:
“The King is the Priest of the Pearl God. Through him we acquire power and protection!”
The king had also bowed his head, reverently and with no hint of self-adulation. When the chant ended he turned to us and continued:
“Strangers, it is not through hatred that your death is decreed. There is no hate in my breast, although you have killed my father, the late King of Faytan.”
His voice faltered, and I exclaimed:
“Killed the King! We? It is impossible.”