ause 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."

The officer at once acted on this advice, and Orlando accompanied him on
board to pilot the vessel round.

On the way the captain--Fitzgerald--asked if any suspicious craft had
been seen lately, and, on hearing that a barque, flying British colours,
had put in there only a day or two before, said that he had been sent
out in chase of that barque, as she was commanded by a celebrated and
rather eccentric pirate, named Rosco.

"I know him well," said Orlando quickly, "he was mate of a schooner
which called here between three and four years ago. It was commanded by
a poor fellow named Daniel, who, I fear, was murdered by his crew.
Alas! I have only too good reason to remember it."

He then related the visit of the piratical-looking schooner to Ratinga;
its departure with his father and himself on board; the mutiny, and all
the other circumstances connected with that memorable event.

"And have you never heard of your father s