in 1907 there were forty-three
inhabitants. The number has probably increased since then.

The principal industries are set down, rather grandiloquently, as
agriculture and fishing. A small quantity of poor wine is made by the
inhabitants for their own use. The religion of these islanders, like
their race, is mixed. It seems to consist of some vague pagan beliefs
and the observance of a few Christian ceremonies. The people are
not in any way bigoted. Their priesthood--if it can be called a
priesthood--is patriarchal. There are no taxes, no police, no courts
of justice, no regular laws, indeed no government, though the island
is, or was, part of the Kingdom of Megalia.

My friend Gorman, who spent some time there, says that Salissa was a
delightful place to live on until the Great Powers discovered its
existence. But I do not quote Gorman as a reliable authority on a
question of this kind. He is an Irishman, Member of Parliament for
Upper Offaly, and therefore naturally at home on an island with no
government. There are people who prefer to live under settled
conditions, who like paying taxes, who appreciate policemen. It is not
likely that they would have been happy on Salissa three years ago.
They would certainly not like to live there now.

It is scarcely necessary to add--any one who possesses an atlas can
find this out for himself--that Salissa lies 47 miles (nautical)
south-east of the nearest point of the Megalian coast, and thus
occupies a position of supreme strategic importance. Sir Bartholomew
kindly allows me to quote him on this subject. I took down the words
he used and read them over to him afterwards.

"The Power," he said, "which controls the Near East controls the
world. The Power which dominates the Cyrenian Sea holds the Near East
in its grasp. The Island of Salissa is the keystone of the Cyrenian
Sea. The German dream of world power depends, at the last analysis, on
the use of the Island of Salissa as a submarine base."

This reads like a quotation from a political speech. It is nothing of
the sort. Sir Bartholomew always talks in that way. He made this
statement to me yesterday evening after dinner, when I told him that I
had undertaken to write the story of recent events in the island. The
pronouncement, coming from a man like Sir Bartholomew, admittedly the
greatest living authority on all Near Eastern questions, justifies the
writing of this book.

Whether I am the man to attempt the work