Joe and I talked it over in our prison, a fine big room in the rear portion of the temple, with windows opening on the square. There were no guards, nor were we bound or otherwise restrained except by the command of the king to remain in the room until sent for. We might easily have dropped from one of the windows to the crowded streets; but that would have availed us nothing. We might have walked out by way of the corridors, and met the guards at the other end. Really, we were safe enough, and our captors knew it.
Our unfortunate mishap caused us considerable uneasiness. It was not so much on account of our personal safety, although of that we had ample cause to fear; but I worried lest my father or Uncle Naboth, suspecting we were captured, should send out a party to attempt to rescue us. From my present information I knew that would mean death to them all; only while in the ship fort, with ample supplies of guns and ammunition, could they successfully oppose these numerous and powerful Faytans.
At noon we were given ample rations of excellent food; fish, turtle and lobster forming the chief dishes. The drinking water, almost ice-cold from earthen jars, was the finest I ever tasted. Women waited upon us, but when I spoke to them in their native tongue they refused to answer.
After the meal the king came in, unannounced and alone. The youth walked with great dignity and his face was very sad. Sitting upon a bench beside us he said:
“You will tell me of the world beyond the sea, and I will listen. But first tell me your names, and what island you come from.”
We introduced ourselves and said we were Americans, but of course that meant nothing to him.
“I am Attero, the twentieth of that name who has ruled in Faytan,” said he proudly. Then he began to examine our clothing and to feel the texture of the cloth, asking us how it was made and of what use the various garments might be.
Joe is not much of a talker, so I spent several hours giving the king the most primitive sort of information, taking care to so explain our machinery and inventions as to set him wondering at our cleverness. He was more interested at first in “the weapon that stings” than in any other mechanical contrivance, and you may be sure I explained the death-dealing character of our guns in a most impressive manner.
“Your people are many, oh King,” said I; “but our rifles and revolvers have more stings in them than you have people, although our own numbers are so few.”
He pondered this a moment.