The reign of Liloa was as peaceful as that of Kiha, his distinguished
father. He did not lack ability, either as a civil or military leader,
however his pleasant and mirthful ways may have impressed to the
contrary. He was fond of good living, fine apparel and comely women;
yet he held the sceptre firmly, and was prompt to punish wrong-doing in
his chiefs or infringement of any of his prerogatives. Nevertheless,
his heart was kind, and he frequently forgave the humble who had
crossed his shadow, and the thoughtless who had violated the spirit
of a royal tabu.
As he was distracted neither by domestic disturbance nor wars
with neighboring kings, Liloa made frequent visits to the several
districts of the island, sometimes with an imposing retinue of
chiefs and retainers, but quite as often with no more than two or
three trusty attendants. Sometimes he traveled incognito, visiting
suspected district chiefs to observe their methods of government,
and, when occasion for rebuke occurred, to their great confusion
making himself known to them.
Near the close of the year 1460, before the annual festival of Lono,
which inaugurated the beginning of a new year, Liloa went with a
large and brilliant party, in gaily-decked double canoes carrying
the royal colors, from Waipio to Koholalele, in Hamakua, to assist
in the reconsecration of the old temple of Manini, the restoration
and enlargement of which had just been completed. He took with him
his high-priest, Laeanui, a band of musicians and dancers, and his
chief navigator and astrologer, and the heiau was consecrated with
unusual display. Laeanui recited the kuawili--the long prayer of
consecration--and twenty-four human victims were laid upon the altar.
Ordering the party to return in the double canoes without him,
Liloa resolved to make the journey overland to Waipio with a single
attendant; and it is quite probable that it was something more
than accident that prompted the royal traveler to deviate from the
shortest path to Waipio, and tarry for some hours in a pleasant grove
of palms near Kealakaha, where dwelt with her old father one of the
most beautiful maidens in all Hamakua.
The name of the girl was Akahia-kuleana. She was tall and slender,
and her dark hair, which rippled down in wavelets, shrouded her bare
shoulders like a veil. Her eyes were soft, and her voice was like
the music of a mountain rivulet, and when her bosom was bedecked with
leis of fragrant blossoms it seemed that they must have grown there,
so much did she appear to be a part of them.
Although in humble life, Akahia was really of royal blood, since six
generations back her paternal ancestor was Kalahuamoku, a half-brother
to Kalapana, from whom Liloa drew his strain. She knew the rank of
her royal visitor, and felt honored that he should praise her beauty;
and when he kissed her lips at parting he left with her his maro and
the ivory clasp of his necklace, at the same time whispering words
in her ear which in a generation later transferred the sceptre of
Hawaii from the direct line to humbler but worthier hands.
Before the trade-winds came and went again the gentle Akahia, unwedded,
became a mother. At first her father frowned upon the child; but it
was a strong and healthy boy, who looked as if he might some day wield
with uncommon vigor a laau-palau if not a battle-axe, and he soon
became reconciled to the presence of the little intruder. In those
days, it is proper to mention, such events occasioned but little
comment, and entailed upon the mother neither social ostracism nor
especial reproach.
The child was named Umi, and, to give it a stronger protector than
herself, Akahia became the wife of her cousin Maakao, a strong,
rough man, who had always shown great affection for her, and who felt
honored in becoming the husband of one who might have taken her choice
among many.
The father of Akahia cultivated a kalo patch larger than his
necessities really required, and was abundantly supplied with pigs,
poultry, yams, bananas, cocoanuts and breadfruit, which he was at all
times enabled to exchange for fish, crabs, limpets and other products
of the sea.
All land titles at that time vested either in the sovereign or the
chiefs subject to him, and the producer was frequently required
to return to his landlord a full third or half of all his labor
yielded. Sometimes the land-owner was more liberal with his tenants;
but quite as often he took to the extent of his need or greed, with
no one to challenge the injustice of his demands.
But the bit of land occupied by the father of Akahia was part of a
large tract reserved for the benefit of the king, and because of the
alii blood with which he was credited, but of which he made no boast,
the rent he returned was merely nominal.
When Umi was about ten years of age the father of Akahia died, leaving
his little estate to his daughter. She had two brothers living, both
older than herself. But the cultivation of the soil was not congenial
to them, and, as there had been no wars of moment in Hawaii for nearly
two generations, one of them, who had been a dreamer from his youth,
had been inducted into the service of the gods by the high-priest
Laeanui, to whom Liloa had given in perpetuity the possession of
Kekaha, in the district of Kona, and was otherwise influential;
while the second brother, on reaching manhood, had gone with spear
and sling to Maui, and risen to distinction in the military service
of the moi of that island.
So Akahia and her husband continued to occupy unmolested the old
plantation. But the agents who collected the revenues of the king
were less liberal with Maakao than they had been with the father
of his wife, and he was compelled to make the same rent returns as
other royal tenants. Nor this alone. A portion of their land had been
given to another, embracing a little grove of hawane or cocoa-trees,
some of which, it was averred, had been planted by the stewards of
Pili nearly four centuries before, and their depleted stocks of pigs
and fowls ceased to be the envy of their neighbors.
This harsh dealing with Akahia and her husband, it is needless to
say, was done without the knowledge of the king; but they feared to
complain, lest they might be despoiled of the little left them, and
deemed it prudent to suffer in silence rather than arouse the wrath
of an agent of whose powers they knew not the extent.
There were other little mouths to feed besides Umi's, and, as the
years came and went with their scant harvests, Maakao became more
and more discontented; but, with a hope in her heart of which Maakao
knew nothing, Akahia toiled on without complaint. Year by year she
saw Umi developing into manhood, and noted that in thought, habit
and bearing he was different from others.
Umi loved his mother and was not unkind to Maakao; but he spent much
of his time by the sea-shore where the great waves thundered against
the cliffs, and in the hills where, among the ohia and sandal trees,
the trade-winds whispered to him of the unknown. He would climb to
the crown of the tallest cocoa-tree because there was danger in it,
and buffet the fiercest waves in his frail canoe; but neither threat
nor persuasion could ever induce him to delve in the slime of the
kalo patch or plant a row of yams. He would bring fish from the sea
and fruits from the mountains, but could not be prevailed upon to
till the soil. He fashioned spears of cunning workmanship, and from
the teeth of sharks made knives of double edge, but to the implements
of husbandry he gave but little note.
At the age of sixteen Umi had reached almost the proportions of a
man. His limbs were strong, his features manly and handsome, his
eyes clear and full of expression, and in athletic sports and the
use of arms he had no equal among his companions. His habits brought
around him but few friends, yet his kindness to all left no pretext
for enmity; and while some said he absented himself from home in a
spirit of idleness, others shook their heads and ventured the opinion
that he visited the recesses of the wooded hills alone to converse with
the kini-akua and learn wisdom from the gods. And his strange conduct,
it may well be imagined, was made the subject of frequent discussion in
the neighborhood, for Maakao complained continually of his idleness,
and but for the intercessions of the mother, who alone was able to
account for his peculiarities, would have closed his doors against him.
But Umi had a few friends to extol his goodness and defend him against
unkind insinuation, and among them were Piimaiwaa and Omaukamau, youths
of about his own age, and Kulamea, the younger and only sister of the
latter. From childhood these friends had been his frequent companions,
and as he grew to manhood, strong-limbed, resolute and gentle, they
learned to regard him with a love prepared for any sacrifice.
Kulamea was a bright-eyed, dusky little fairy, who often accompanied
Umi and her brother in their rambles. They petted her until she
became an exacting little tyrant, and then Umi, at her command,
made toys for her, climbed the tallest cocoa-trees, and scaled the
steepest cliffs in search of flowers and berries that she liked;
and, in return for these kindnesses, what, at the age of fifteen,
could Kulamea do but love almost to idolatry the brave and gentle
companion who had developed into a splendid manhood? And what could
Umi do at twenty but return in kind the devotion of one now ripening
into a charming womanhood, whose childish friendship was the brightest
sunshine that had ever flecked the landscape of his dreamy life?
With a feeling of uneasiness Akahia watched Umi's growing love for
Kulamea, and when at twenty he would have married her, much to the
gratification of Maakao, she kindly but firmly said to her son:
"Be not in haste to fetter your free limbs. Be patient, as I have
been for twenty years. Kulamea is worthy--but wait."
"Why wait?" exclaimed Maakao, suddenly appearing. He had been listening
without the door. "Why should he wait?" he continued; "he has all his
life been idle, and it is time that he should have a house of his own."
"You have spoken well!" replied Umi, drawing himself up to his
full height, and looking scornfully down upon the husband of his
mother--"you have spoken well, Maakao! It is time, indeed, that I
stopped this dreaming! I will never eat food again under your roof. Now
get you to your kalo patch; you will find occupation there befitting
you! I will seek other means of living!"
With these scornful words Umi strode haughtily from the house. Enraged
at the insult, Maakao seized a laau-palau, or large kalo-knife,
and sprang after him. Umi turned and reached for his pahoa. Maakao
raised his weapon to strike, but it dropped to the earth as if a
paralysis had seized his arm as Akahia sprang before him, exclaiming:
"Do not dare to strike! He is not your son; he is your chief! Down
on your knees before him!"
To the dismay of Maakao and profound astonishment of Umi, Akahia then
revealed the secret of Umi's birth, and, taking from their hiding-place
the keepsakes left with her by Liloa, said, as she handed them to
her son:
"Your father is king of Hawaii. Go to him in person and place these
mementoes before him. Tell him Akahia-kuleana returns them to him by
the hands of his and her son, who is worthy of him, and he will own
you to be the child of his love. He is noble and will hold sacred
his royal pledge. This should have been done long ago, but I could
not bring my heart to part with you. Go, and may the gods be your
protection and your guide!"
The strange revelation was soon known throughout the neighborhood,
and Umi prepared for his journey to Waipio. How should he appear
before Liloa, whose will was law and whose frown was death? In what
guise should he seek the presence of his royal father?
"As an alii-kapu!" answered Akahia, proudly. Then from an ipu she
brought forth a plumed helmet and cape of the feathers of the oo,
which she had secretly fabricated with her own hands, and placed them
upon the head and shoulders of her son.
To Kulamea alone was the news of what had befallen Umi unwelcome. She
would have been more than content to share with him the common lot;
but now that he was about to be recognized as the son of the great
Liloa, she felt that they were soon to part for ever. Other alliances
would be found for him, and he would forget the humble playmate of his
youth, who loved him, not because his father was a king, but because
they had grown up together and neither of them could help it. So when,
two days after, Umi started overland for Waipio, accompanied by his
two trusty friends, Piimaiwaa and Omaukamau, Kulamea secreted herself
to avoid the agony of a parting farewell from Umi; but he found her,
nevertheless, and made her happy by kissing and telling her that,
whatever might be his future, she should share it; and she believed
him, for he had never deceived her.
Umi and his companions arrived in Waipio valley at nightfall. There
they remained during the night, and the next morning crossed the little
stream of Wailoa, near which was the royal mansion. There Umi left
his companions and proceeded alone to the palace enclosure. His head
was adorned with a helmet surmounted with white and scarlet plumes,
and from his broad shoulders hung a cape of yellow feathers, such as an
alii alone was permitted to wear, while around his loins was fastened
the maro left with Akahia by the king, and the ivory clasp ornamented
a necklace of rare and beautiful shells. In his hand he bore an ihe,
or javelin, of unusual weight and exquisite finish, and many eyes
followed him as he approached the palace; for, although a stranger,
it was manifest from his dress and bearing that he did not belong to
the makaainana, or common people.
His mother had instructed him to seek the presence of the king in
the most direct manner that occasion presented, and without asking
the permission or assistance of any one, fearing, no doubt, that,
to gain admission to the royal hale, he might exhibit and in some
manner lose possession of the sole evidences of his paternity, and
thus receive the punishment of an impostor. He therefore passed by,
without seeking to enter, the gate of the enclosure, around which were
lounging a score or more of sentinels and retainers, and, proceeding
to the rear of the mansion, leaped over the high wall immediately
back and within a hundred paces of the private apartments of the king.
Having thus violated a rule of royal etiquette, the penalty of which
was death, unless mitigated by satisfactory explanation, Umi grasped
his ihe firmly, determined, should he be opposed, to fight his way to
the royal presence. It was a desperate resolution, but he had faith
in himself, and was without fear.
His movements had been watched as he passed the gate of the enclosure
without a word, and as he sprang over the wall he found a number of
uplifted spears between him and the entrances to the mansion. Nerving
himself for the worst, he strode past the interposing weapons,
strongly hurling their points aside when too closely presented, and
in a moment stood at the back entrance of the palace, through which
no one but of the royal household was permitted to enter.
This audacity saved him from more determined opposition, since it
seemed incredible that any one not possessing the confidence of the
king would take such double hazard of his life. Stepping within the
entrance, Umi turned, and, with a half-amused smile at the baffled
guard now clamoring around the door, struck the handle of his javelin
firmly into the ground, and walked unarmed into the presence of
the king.
As Umi entered unannounced, the king had just finished his morning
repast, and was lounging on a couch of many folds of kapa, unattended
except by his spittoon-bearer and two half-grown boys with kahilis.
Astounded at the intrusion, the king rose to a sitting posture, and,
with a frown upon his face, was about to speak, when Umi stepped to
the couch and boldly seated himself in the lap of Liloa.
Although past sixty, the king still retained a goodly share of his
earlier vigor, and, throwing Umi from his knees, angrily exclaimed:
"Audacious slave! how dare you!"
Umi rose to his feet, and, standing proudly before the king with
folded arms, replied:
"The son of Liloa dare do anything!"
For a moment the king did not speak. He looked into the face of
the undaunted young stranger, and noted that it was noble; and then
his thoughts went back to Kealakaha, and to the fair young girl of
better than common blood whom he had met there many years before
while journeying to Waipio after consecrating the temple of Manini,
and finally, almost as in a dream, to the pledge he had given and the
tokens he had left with her. When all this came back to him he cast
his eyes over the comely youth, and beheld his maro around the loins
of Umi, and the ivory clasp of his necklace upon his breast. He could
scarcely doubt, yet, as if he had recollected nothing, seen nothing,
he calmly but kindly said:
"Young man, you claim to be my son. If so, tell me of your mother,
and of the errand that brings you here."
Umi bowed and answered: "My mother, O king, is Akahia-kuleana,
of Kealakaha, and my years were twenty at the last ripening of the
ohias. For the first time, four days ago, she told me I was the son of
the king of Hawaii, and to take to him this maro and this ivory clasp,
and he would not disown me. You are Liloa, the honored sovereign of
Hawaii. I am Umi, the humble son of Akahia-kuleana. From the hands
of my mother I have brought to you this maro and this ornament of
bone. If I am your son, seat me beside you on the kapa; if not,
order my body to the heiau as a sacrifice to the gods."
There was a struggle in the breast of the king, and his eyes were
bent upon the bold youth with an expression of pride and tenderness
as he said:
"How did you gain admission here alone and unannounced?"
"By leaping over the wall of the pahale and beating down the spears
of your guards," replied Umi modestly.
"It was a dangerous undertaking," suggested the king, feigning a
frown which wrinkled into a smile upon his lips; "had you no fear?"
"I am still young and have not yet learned to fear," returned Umi,
with an air of self-reproach.
"Such words could come alone from a heart ennobled by the blood of
Pilikaeae! You are indeed the son of Liloa!" exclaimed the king, with
emotion, stretching forth his hand and seating Umi beside him. "Not
these tokens alone but your face and bearing show it." And he put his
arms around the neck of his son and kissed him, and ordered a repast,
which they ate together, while Umi related to his royal father the
simple events of his humble life.
As the strange entrance of Umi into the royal mansion had attracted
much attention, many of the privileged retainers and officers of
the court soon gathered in and around the palace; and the rank
and possible purposes of the visitor were undergoing an earnest
discussion--especially after it was learned that he was breakfasting
with the king--when Hakau, the only recognized son of Liloa and
heir-presumptive to the throne, suddenly appeared and sought the
presence of his royal father.
There was a dark scowl on the face of Hakau on entering the room and
observing a stranger in close conversation with the king and eating
from the same vessels, nor did it disappear when Liloa presented
Umi to him as his own son and Hakau's half-brother. Umi rose and
frankly offered his brother the hand of friendship and affection;
but the grasp and recognition of Hakau were cold, and when he was
invited to sit down and partake of meat with his newly-found brother
he excused himself with the falsehood that he had just risen from
his morning meal. After a few words with the king, during which he
closely scrutinized Umi's handsome face and manly form, Hakau withdrew,
leaving no token in word or look of any feeling of joy at the meeting.
Although the kings of the Hawaiian group at that time usually had from
two to six wives--either marriages of the heart or alliances with the
families of neighboring kings to strengthen their dynasties--tradition
has given to Liloa but one recognized wife. She was Pinea, a Maui
chiefess of family distinction, who gave to Liloa a son and one
daughter--Hakau and Kapukini. Hakau had reached his thirtieth year and
had married the daughter of the chief and high-priest Pae. They had
one child, a daughter, who had been given the name of her grandmother,
Pinea. Kapukini had not quite reached womanhood, and was the idol of
the court.
Hakau was a large, well-visaged man, but was haughty, selfish and
cruel. Having been, until the sudden appearance of Umi at the court,
the only recognized son of Liloa, his caprices had been humored
until his heartlessness and tyranny had become almost a by-word in
Hamakua. But the truth seems to be that he was naturally vicious and
barbarous, and tradition speaks of no greater tyrant among all the
rulers of Hawaii. Heedless of the rights of property, without return
he took from others whatever he coveted, and in an insanity of pride
and criminal envy caused to be secretly slain or disfigured such as
were reputed to surpass him in personal beauty. Without giving note
or credence to the many tales of barbarism with which tradition has
connected his name, it is doubtless true that his cruelty and contempt
for the rights of his subjects rendered him an unfit successor of
the gentle and sagacious Liloa, under whose reign the humblest were
protected, and peace and prosperity prevailed throughout the six
districts of the island.
No further explanation of Hakau's freezing reception of Umi is
required. He was envious of his handsome face and noble bearing,
and hated him because of the love with which his father manifestly
regarded him. But Hakau's feelings in the matter were not consulted,
and the day following Umi was conducted to the temple of Paakalani
in great pomp, where, to the solemn music of chant and sacred drum,
the officiating priest with the newly-found son of the king went
through the form of oki-ka-piko--a ceremony attending the birth of
the children of royalty--and Umi was formally and publicly recognized
as his son by the king of Hawaii.
Hakau was compelled, with great bitterness of heart, to witness
this ceremony, but was too discreet to openly manifest his
displeasure. Returning to the palace, Umi was formally presented to
the royal household, and heralds proclaimed his rank and investiture
of the tabus to which he was entitled.
Although the mother of Hakau, Pinea received him kindly, and Kapukini
was more than delighted with her new and handsome brother. She clung
to his hand, and artlessly declared that Hakau was cross with her
and that she had prayed to the gods to send her another brother,
just such a one as Umi, and they had done so.
Soon after a great feast was given by the king in honor of the new
heir, and all the leading chiefs in the kingdom were invited to come
and pay their respects to him. Twelve hundred chiefs were present, and
the feasting and rejoicing continued for three days, interspersed with
games and athletic sports, in which Umi shone with great splendor. In
feats of strength and the skilful handling of arms he had few equals
in all that great and distinguished gathering, and in conversations
with the old he exhibited so much wisdom and prudence of speech that
they wondered who had been his tutors; and when they learned that he
had been taught by no one and that the greater part of his young life
had been passed in solitude, some of them thought the gods must have
instructed him, and all admitted that he was a worthy son of Liloa
and an honor to the royal line.
Umi was thus firmly established at the court of his royal father,
and adequate revenues were set apart for his proper maintenance and
that of a retinue befitting his high rank. His friends Piimaiwaa
and Omaukamau, who were overjoyed at his good fortune, entered his
service as his personal and confidential friends, and thenceforth
became identified with his career, always appearing as the most
faithful and self-sacrificing of his adherents.
In a week after his arrival at Waipio, Umi sent Omaukamau back to
their old home with news of his recognition by the king. He also
bore an order enlarging the area of Maakao and Akahia's possessions,
and relieving them from rent and all other tenant charges. Nor did he
forget Kulamea. He sent her a little present in token of his love,
and word that, although it could not safely be so then, some day in
the future she should be nearer to him, even though he might become the
king of Hawaii. The token was dear to her, and dearer still his words,
for she knew the heart of Umi and did not doubt; and thenceforth
she lived and patiently waited for him, keeping her own secret,
and firmly saying "no" to the many who sought her in marriage.
Umi's affability and intelligence soon made him a great favorite at
the court and steadily endeared him to his father. But in proportion
as he grew in the favor of others Hakau's hatred for him increased,
and but for the fear of his father would have manifested itself in
open hostility; but Liloa, who was growing old and feeble through a
cureless malady, had not yet designated his successor, and Hakau deemed
it prudent to make no outward showing of the intense envy and dislike
of his brother which he was secretly nursing, and which he resolved
should be gratified when the reins of government passed into his hands.
In a little less than two years after the recognition of Umi the black
kapa covered Liloa. When he felt the end approaching he called his
two sons before him, and publicly gave the charge of the government
and title of moi to Hakau, and the custody of the gods and temples
to Umi. "You are to be the ruler of Hawaii," he said to Hakau,
"and Umi is to be your counselor."
There was grief all over the kingdom when the death of Liloa became
known, for he was greatly beloved; and, that his bones might never be
desecrated, the high-priest Pae, whose daughter Hakau had married,
secretly conveyed them to the Kona coast, and consigned them to the
deep waters off Kekaha.
This was in accordance with the custom of the time--in fact, with
the custom of earlier and later years, for the resting-place of
the bones of Kamehameha I., who died in 1819, is unknown. A story
survives that the remains of this eminent chief were entombed in
the sea, but the more popular belief is that they were secretly
conveyed to a cave or other place prepared for them in the hills
back of Kailua, on the island of Hawaii, and there hidden for ever
from mortal gaze. In connection with this belief it is stated that
just before daylight on the morning following the night of the death
of Kamehameha, one of his nearest friends, while the guard had been
removed to afford the opportunity, took the bones of his beloved
chief upon his shoulders, and, alone and unseen, conveyed them to
their secret sepulchre. Returning, he encountered two natives who
were preparing for the labors of the day. Fearing that he had been
followed, he inquired whether they had observed any one passing toward
the hills that morning. They declared that they had seen no one. Had
they answered differently he would have slain them both on the spot,
that their secret might have died with them.
The name of this chief was Hoolulu. He has been dead for many years;
and although he left children, to one of whom the secret may have been
imparted, in accordance with native custom in such matters, it is now
believed that all knowledge of the depository of the remains of the
first Kamehameha is lost. In 1853, when the necessity of hiding the
bones of distinguished chiefs was no longer recognized, Kamehameha
III. visited Kailua and almost prevailed upon Hoolulu to point
out the spot. They even started toward the hills for that purpose,
but, as quite a number of persons were observed to be following,
Hoolulu declined to proceed, and could never after be induced to
divulge anything.
So fearful were the ancient chiefs of Hawaii that some indignity might
be offered to their remains after death--for instance, that charmed
fish-hooks or arrow-points for shooting mice might be made from their
bones--that they were invariably hidden by their surviving friends,
sometimes in the depths of the ocean, and quite as frequently,
perhaps, in the dark recesses of volcanic caverns, with which the
islands abound.
Immediately after Kamehameha I. had breathed his last his friend
Kalaimoku assembled the principal chiefs around the body to consider
what should be done with it. In his great admiration for the dead
chief one of them solemnly said: "This is my thought: we will eat
him raw!" But the body was left to Liholiho, son and successor of
the dead king who, with his queen, Kamamalu, died while on a visit
to England in 1824.
The bones of no Hawaiian chief were ever more securely hidden than
were those of the distinguished alii-nui Kualii, who ruled with a
strong arm the turbulent factions of the island of Oahu some two
centuries back. After the flesh had been stripped from the bones
they were given in charge of a trusty friend to be secreted, and most
effectually did he accomplish the delicate task assigned him. He had
them pulverized to a fine powder, which he mixed with the poi to be
served at the funeral feast to be given to the principal chiefs the day
following. At the close of the repast, when asked if he had secreted
the bones of the dead chief to his satisfaction, he grimly replied:
"Hidden, indeed, are the bones of Kualii! They have been deposited
in a hundred living sepulchres. You have eaten them!"
But we are wandering somewhat from our story. The day after the death
of Liloa, Hakau was ceremoniously invested with supreme authority,
while the high-priest Laeanui gave formal recognition to Umi as
guardian of the gods and temples. Both events were celebrated with
display and sacrifice; but it is said that the scream of the alae, a
sacred bird of evil omen, was heard around the palace all through the
night that Hakau first slept there as king, and that as Umi entered
the temple of Paakalani to assume the guardianship of the gods the
head of the great image of Lono, near the door of the inner temple,
nodded approvingly.
Independently of Umi's position as prime minister or royal adviser,
his authority as guardian of the gods and temples was second only to
that of the king, and Hakau chafed under a bequest that had clothed
his brother with a power little less than his own and placed him so
near the throne. The consequence was that he seldom invited him to his
councils, and secretly sought to cast discredit upon his acts as the
nominal head of the priesthood. But Umi bore himself so nobly that
Hakau's venom brought no poison to him, and the petty persecutions
to which he was subjected not only failed to injure him, but actually
added to his popularity with those who had felt the barbarity of his
brother, whose first acts on coming to power were to dismiss, disrate
and impoverish many of the old and faithful servants and counselors
of his father, and surround himself with a party of unscrupulous
retainers as cruel and treacherous as himself.
Enraged that his secret and cowardly slanders of Umi failed to bring
him into disrespect, Hakau's hostility began to assume a more open
and brutal form. He publicly reviled his brother for his low birth,
and assumed not only that Liloa was not his father, but that his
mother was a woman without any distinction of blood.
Unable to bear these taunts, and not deeming it prudent to precipitate
an open rupture with his brother, Umi quietly left Waipio with his two
friends Piimaiwaa and Omaukamau, and, traveling through Hamakua without
stopping at Kealakaha, where dwelt his mother and Kulamea, proceeded
at once to Waipunalei, near Laupahoehoe, in the district of Hilo, where
he concluded to remain for a time and await the development of events.
To support themselves Umi and his two friends devoted a portion
of their time to fishing, bird-catching and the making of canoes,
spears and other weapons; and although the rank of Umi was studiously
concealed, his intelligence, skilful use of arms and general bearing
could not fail to attract attention and excite the curiosity of
his humble associates. Not unfrequently strangers would prostrate
themselves before him, so profoundly were they impressed with his
appearance, but he declined to accept their homage and smilingly
assured them that he was born and reared, like themselves, in humble
life. As a further precaution against recognition, he carefully avoided
the prominent chiefs of the district, deeming it probable that some
of them had seen him in Waipio, or even witnessed the ceremonies
attending his acceptance as the son of Liloa.