But he did not find Orlando, who had completed his search of the palm-grove and passed over the ridge that formed the summit of the island in that part. It was by no means the highest part, but from it could be seen a large bay which lay on the side of the island opposite to the mission village. And here he beheld the cause of another of the little surprises with which we have said the people of Ratinga were visited at that time. It was a stately man-of-war, with the Union Jack flying from her peak, and her sails backed so as to check her way.
A boat was being lowered from her side, and Orlando with his party hastened to the beach to meet it.
The officer in command was evidently not aware that he had come to an island where the peaceful influences of the gospel of Jesus prevailed, for, on landing, he drew up his men, who were all armed to receive either as friends or foes the party of natives who advanced towards him. The officer was not a little surprised to observe that the natives were led by a white man, who halted them when within about three hundred yards off, and advanced alone and unarmed to the beach.
“I am happy to welcome you and offer hospitality,” said Orlando, taking off his cap.
“Thanks, good sir, I accept your offer most gladly,” returned the officer, holding out his hand; “all the more heartily that I had expected to meet with none but savages here.”
“We are Christians, thank God,” said Orlando.
“Then this must be the island of Ratinga, of which we have heard so much of late.”
“Even so.”
“But where, then, is your village, your church?” asked the officer, looking round.
“It is on the other side of the island. If you will take your ship round there you will find good anchorage and fresh water, of which last, if I may judge from the casks in your boat you are in search.”