The creature proved himself to be very much alive by seizing one of the serpents in his huge hands and whirling it above his head as if it had been a club.
Luke played the part of peacemaker.
“Now, gentlemen! Come, Ben, no offence was meant, I’m sure. Tell the captain what you want. He’s in rather a hurry, Captain Lander is.”
“Then let him go to the devil, and take his hurry with him.”
“By all means. I wish you good evening, Mr. Batters.”
I swung round on my heels. The creature screamed after me.
“Stop, you fool, stop! I’m the Joss—the Great Joss; the greatest god this country’s ever known. In my presence all men fall upon their knees and worship me.”
“Let ’em. Tastes differ. I like my gods to be built on other lines.”
I expected to be attacked by a shower of execration. But the creature changed his mood.
“And I’m sick of being a god—sick of it—dead sick! Curse your josses, is what I say—damn ’em!” There followed a flood of adjectives. “I want to get out of the place, to turn my back upon the whole infernal land, to never set eyes on it again. I’m an Englishman, that’s what I am—an Englishman, British born and British bred. I want to get back to my native land. Captain Lander, or whatever your cursed name is, will you take me back to England?”