f the natives come to the
assistance of Mr. Williams and his family.

But one of the most remarkable among this order of men seems to be
Tamanhena[BX], the priest of the head of the Shukehanga, who is believed
to have absolute command over the winds and waves. Marsden met with this
dignitary on his second visit to New Zealand; and found that, in
addition to being a priest, he was in the habit of acting as a pilot, a
profession with which the other suited very well, as by virtue of his
sacred character he had the power of keeping the winds and waves quiet
whenever he chose to put to sea.

Accordingly, Marsden went out with him in a canoe to examine the
entrance of the river; Tamanhena assuring him, though it blew very
fresh, that he would soon make both the wind and the waves fall.

"We were no sooner in the canoe," continues Marsden, "than the priest
began to exert all his powers to still the gods, the winds, and the
waves. He spake in an angry and commanding tone. However, I did not
perceive either the winds or waves yield to his authority; and when we
reached the head, I requested to go on shore."

Tamanhena wished very much to learn to pray like the Europeans, and said
he should willingly give a farm to any missionary who would come to
reside near him. He also promised that he would let Marsden hear his god
speak to him; but when they got to the place where the conference was to
be held, he discovered that the god was not there. Marsden, however,
found him remarkably well informed on all subjects relating to his
country and religion, and thought him, upon the whole, a very sensible
man, making allowance for his theological opinions.

Cruise has, however, detailed some particulars of this venerable
personage, whom he also met with a few months after Marsden had seen
him, which grievously detract from his character for sanctity. He made
the voyage with them in the "Dromedary" from the Bay of Islands to the
mouth of the Shukehanga, but announced his intention of leaving them the
day after their arrival.

"During his stay in the ship," says Cruise, "there certainly was nothing
of a very sacred character about him; he was by far the wildest of his
companions; and, unfortunately, on the morning fixed for his departure,
a soldier having missed his jacket, there was so great a suspicion of
the pilot's honesty, that the sentinel at the gangway took the liberty
of lifting up his mat, as he prepared to go down the side, a