We had a pleasant run for two days, with a light wind, and hoped the next morning to land at Kailua, the capital of the island of Owhyhee; but at sunset a sudden squall struck the little vessel, and had not Ben Yool been at the helm, and instantly luffed up, while Jerry and I let fly the foresheet, we should in all probability have been over, and become food for the sharks.  It came on very dark and blowy; and as it was too late to make a harbour, we gave the shore a wide berth, and ran on.  The next forenoon, when we made the land, we found that we were to the southward of Kailua.  As we stood in, Mr Callard told us that on the shore of Karakakooa Bay, which was before us, Captain Cook met his death, and that he would show us the very spot where that event happened.  I felt as interested as if I were about to visit classic ground.  Often and often as I had been reading through Cook's Voyages with delight, I little thought that I should see the very spots he describes, much less that one which has become sacred in our memory. Before us appeared a line of volcanic cliffs, of considerable height, the land rising again above them, covered with the richest verdure; which makes the summits of the rocky and lofty mountains beyond appear still more sterile and uninviting.  To the right, among groves of palms and cocoa-nut trees, appeared the steep, sloping roofs of a native village; while on the left, where the cliffs sink towards the water, and groves of various tropical trees appear scattered about, our friend pointed out to us the very spot where Cook was killed.  The cliffs near are full of caves, which are used by the natives as places of sepulture; and in one of these, it is said, the bones of the great navigator were deposited by the priests, and valued by them as relics.  Our friend told us that he had constantly made inquiries among the chiefs and natives as to the affair, and that he is certain the attack on the whites was not premeditated.  Some of the people had stolen a boat for the sake of the nails in her, with which they wished to make fish-hooks.  He landed with some boats to recover it.  While speaking to some of the chiefs on the subject, a number of natives collected; and without his orders the marines, believing that he was about to be attacked, fired.  A chief was killed.  The natives advanced, and, while he was in the act of ordering his people to desist, he was pierced through the body by a spear.  Grief and dismay took possession of the hearts of both parties when he fell. By the then superstitious natives he had been looked upon as their deified and long-lost sovereign, Rono.  This Rono (so their legends asserted) had in a fit of anger killed his wife, when, repenting of the act, his senses deserted him, and he went about the islands wrestling with whomsoever he met.  At last he took his departure in a vessel of a strange build, and no one knew where he had gone, but all expected him to return.  When Captain Cook appeared, the priests believed that he was Rono, and, clothing him with the garments kept for their god, led him to their temples, and offered sacrifices to propitiate his favour, while the people prostrated themselves before him--he all the time little suspecting the reason of the honours paid him.  After his death some of the people naturally doubted that he could be Rono, but others still affirmed that he was; and it is believed that the priests took some of his bones and preserved them in a wicker basket covered over with red feathers, which are highly prized by the natives.  In this they were every year carried about from temple to temple, when the priests went to collect tribute of the people.  After the abolition of idolatry in 1819, it is not known what became of them; perhaps they were concealed by some old priest who still clung secretly to the ancient faith.