It appears that a tradition existed that a chief of earlier times, one Rono, Orono, or Lono (the R and the L in the Pacific languages are almost interchangeable), had, after killing his wife, become frantically insane, and after travelling through the islands boxing and wrestling with all he met, had departed in a canoe, prophesying that he would some day return in an island with trees, hogs, and dogs. He was deified, and temples erected in his honour. When Cook's ships arrived it was believed that the prophecy was fulfilled. Rono had returned as he had said, and the natives flocked to do him honour. When Cook landed he was received with adoration, the crowds prostrating themselves, and the priests escorting him with much ceremony. Led to a temple, he was clothed with red cloth, had pigs offered to him, and was generally treated in a manner which, though satisfactory as showing the friendly feelings of the natives, was puzzling to the Europeans. This continued throughout their stay, presents of all kinds being showered upon them. The officers, however, observed that the warrior chiefs were not so enthusiastic as the priests and common people. The death of a seaman, who was buried on shore in the presence of a large concourse, would seem to have been the first circumstance that threw doubts upon the godlike character of the visitors; but the ready way in which the fence of a Morai or sacred inclosure, which included various images, was granted for fuel, shows that the priests still held to their idea. The king, Taraiopu (or Terreooboo, as his name was written by Captain King), arrived shortly after the ships anchored, and showed himself to be as much impressed with the public belief as any of his subjects. Thus matters continued during the eighteen days the ships remained; but towards the end of this time the natives began to show anxiety that they should be gone. The drain of hogs and other provisions, which were poured upon the visitors, doubtless led to anxious thoughts as to how long this was to last; and probably those members of the community who were less amenable to the influence of the priests, and were jealous of their own authority, were by no means so certain that the popular opinion of the supernatural nature of the white men was correct. The ships sailed on February 4th, but, as ill-luck had it, the Resolution sprung her foremast in a gale, and Cook resolved to return to Kealakekua Bay for repairs. Here they again anchored on the 11th. Their reception was, however, very different. No crowd of canoes round the ship; no enthusiastic mass of natives on shore. Everything was silence. What had happened was that the king had departed, leaving the bay under "tabu," i.e., a sacred interdict. The priests, however, received them with as much friendliness as before, and the Morai was given up to them as a place of repairs for the damaged mast.