It must have come straight from Prester John or Sheba's queen, or whoever ruled in Africa when time was young.
I was horribly impressed.

Devouring curiosity and a lurking nameless fear filled my mind.

My old dread had gone.

I was not afraid now of Kaffir guns, but of the black magic of which Laputa had the key.
The incantation died away, but still herbs were flung on the fire, till the smoke rose in a great cloud, through which the priest loomed misty and huge.

Out of the smoke-wreaths his voice came high and strange.
It was as if some treble stop had been opened in a great organ, as against the bass drone of the cataract.
He was asking Laputa questions, to which came answers in that rich voice which on board the liner had preached the gospel of Christ.