The priest hummed and hawed. "He did not know; could not say. We should hear what the 'boy' would say. He would do as he liked. Could not compel him;" and so forth. At night all assembled in the house where the priest usually performed. All was expectation. I saw I was _de trop_, in the opinion of our soothsayer: in fact, I had got the name of an infidel (which I have since taken care to get rid of), and the spirit was unwilling to enter where there was an unbeliever. My friend the priest hinted to me politely that a nice bed had been made for me in the next house. I thanked him in the most approved Maori fashion, but said I was "very comfortable where I was;" and, suiting the action to the word, rolled my cloak about me, and lay down on the rushes, with which the floor was covered. About midnight I heard the spirit saluting the guests, and them saluting him; and I also noticed they hailed him as "relation," and then gravely preferred the request that he would "drive back the ship which had stolen his cousin." The response, after a short time, came in the hollow mysterious whistling voice,--"The ship's nose I will batter out on the great sea." This answer was repeated several times, and then the spirit departed, and would not be recalled. The rest of the night was spent in conjecturing what could be the meaning of these words. All agreed that there must be more in them than met the ear; but no one could say it was a clear concession of the request made. As for the priest, he said he could not understand it, and that "the spirit was a great rogue"--a _koroke hangareka_. He, however, kept throwing out hints now and then that something more than common was meant, and talked generally in the "we shall see" style. Now here comes the end of the affair. About ten days after this in comes the ship. She had been "battered" with a vengeance. She had been met by a terrible gale when a couple of hundred miles off the land, and had sprung a leak in the bow. The bow in Maori is called the "nose" (_ihu_). The vessel had been in great danger, and had been actually forced to run for the nearest port; which happened to be the one she had left. Now, after such a coincidence as this, I can hardly blame the ignorant natives for believing in the oracle, for I actually caught myself quoting, "Can the devil speak truth?" Indeed I have in the good old times known several pakehas who "thought there was something in it," and two who formally and believingly consulted the oracle, and paid a high _douceur_ to the priest.