As darkness settled upon the camp of the insurgents Umi felt that
the hour for action was closely at hand. He therefore gave orders
that preparations for instant departure be maintained throughout the
night. The moon was waning, with a promise of rising some time before
morning, and the night set in dark and cloudy, with occasional showers.
About two hours before midnight Maukaleoleo suddenly and silently
strode past the sentinels. Seeking Umi, he found him in council
with his friends Omaukamau, Piimaiwaa and the high-priest. They were
arranging the order of march by the four narrow paths at that time
leading to Waipio.
The giant stooped low and looked in upon the council through the
doorway. He could scarcely distinguish the faces within by the light
of the flambeau kept burning near the entrance. He did not attempt
to enter, but stood silent and motionless, with his hands upon his
knees, peering into the room as if to attract attention. Umi smiled
as he recognized the huge object, and stepped to the door. The giant
rose until his head was above the ridge-pole, and then bowed like
the bending of a tree before the wind.
"Well, my good friend," said Umi, "after thanking you for your last
night's work, let me ask what word you bring."
"None," replied the giant. "There is no light yet, but I am impressed
that it will be seen before morning."
"And so am I, good Maukaleoleo," returned the chief, "and your signal
will find us prepared."
"That is what I came to learn," answered the giant, bowing and turning
to depart.
"But do not mistake for a signal the rising moon, which will soon
set its torch upon the hill-tops," suggested Umi, pleasantly.
"Unless the moon should rise in the west, which it has not done
since the days of Maui, the mistake would scarcely be possible,"
replied Maukaleoleo, with a smile upon his great face, and then,
with a few long strides, disappearing in the darkness.
It must have been at about the time of this interview that Hakau
was leaving the heiau at Waipio, after having invoked the auguries
of sacrifice and listened to the voice of Nunu from the darkness of
the inner temple. The king had scarcely passed the gate of the temple
leading to the sacred pavement of Liloa, which connected the heiau
with the royal mansion, and which privileged feet alone could tread,
when Nunu, after exchanging a few words with the high-priest, also
left the enclosure, but neither over the sacred pavement nor toward
the palace. Taking a path which did not seem to be new to him, from
the facility with which he traveled it by the light of the stars,
he crossed the valley and mounted the high ridge of hills enclosing
it on the southeast. Ascending the ridge for some distance, and until
the lights of the valley could no longer be seen, he proceeded slowly
upward, at intervals striking together two stones and listening for
a response. At length it came, like an echo of his own signal, and a
few minutes' walk brought him to a large heap of dry leaves and limbs,
from behind which Kakohe rose and greeted him.
"Fire it at once!" said Nunu. "I will explain all when the signal
is answered."
Behind a rock, a few paces away, a small fire was smouldering. Kakohe
sprang and seized a burning brand, which he applied to the heap,
and in a moment the red flames reached heavenward, throwing a lurid
light upon the surrounding hills.
With their backs to the fire the two priests looked anxiously toward
the south and east, and in a few minutes far in the distance gleamed
an answering flame. Satisfied that their signal had been seen and
responded to, they permitted the fire to die out, and then returned
to the valley to await the important events of the morrow.
Leaving the rendezvous of the rebels, Maukaleoleo slowly returned
to his station, for even his mighty limbs at times grew weary, and
the path leading up the mountain was obscure and narrow. Reaching the
summit, he examined a small fire hidden among the rocks, and was about
to stretch himself upon the ground, with his face turned eastward,
when he discerned a strange, star-like speck upon the horizon. For a
moment it paled, and then grew brighter and brighter. He stepped to a
tree near a huge pile of combustibles, and, glancing along a horizontal
limb that had been previously trimmed for the purpose, discovered that
it pointed directly toward the light. All doubt at once disappeared. He
knew it was the signal. Springing for a brand, the heap was lighted,
and by its wild glare in the darkness Maukaleoleo rapidly descended to
the valley. His fatigue had vanished, for the signal of Hakau's death
had been lighted by his own hands, and his great heart was in arms.
The signal was at once discerned by the watchmen at Umi's quarters,
and in a few minutes all was quiet commotion within the walls. Torches
were lighted, armed warriors sprang with alacrity into line, and half
an hour after Umi, in feather mantle and helmet plumed with royal
colors, and preceded by the war-god Akuapaao, borne upon a manele, or
palanquin, resting upon the shoulders of kahunas, with Kaoleioku as
high-priest, marched out of the enclosure, followed by two thousand
well-armed and devoted supporters. His address to his warriors was
brief. "The moments are precious," said Umi, "and must not be wasted
in words. Let our spears speak, and at sunset to-morrow we will eat
meat in peace in Waipio!"
As a measure of precaution, in case of disaster, a force sufficient to
hold the premises of the high-priest was left within the walls. The
advancing army was formed into three divisions, the right commanded
by Omaukamau and the left by Piimaiwaa, while Umi remained with the
centre. Their orders were to move rapidly, but as quietly as possible,
by three different routes, and form a junction at their intersection
with the alanui, or great path, leading from the coast to the inland
village of Waimea. This junction it was expected the left division,
traveling a difficult mountain-path, would be able to reach two or
three hours after sunrise.
It was, perhaps, an hour short of midnight when the last of the little
army left the enclosure, followed by two or three hundred women bearing
food, water, extra weapons and a variety of camp necessaries. The
warriors were full of enthusiasm, and when Maukaleoleo stepped in
among them from the mountains like a protecting deity their shouts
could scarcely be restrained. His appearance was most welcome to Umi,
who thanked him warmly for what he had done, and expressed a desire
that he would remain near him during the march, as his familiarity
with the mountains and their paths would render his advice valuable.
"But I see another mighty friend has opportunely reported," said Umi,
pleasantly, as he pointed toward the east. "As the moon is about to
look over the hills, the torches may soon be extinguished, for the
paths will be plainer without them."
The divisions separated, and, dispensing with their torches,
soon swarmed the several paths leading to Waipio. Each division
was preceded some distance in its march by a party of scouts, with
instructions to let no one pass to their front, lest he might be a
messenger of warning.
The paths were rough and in places almost choked with undergrowth,
and the advance was exceedingly laborious; but no word of complaint
was heard, and about the middle of the forenoon the left division, and
the last to arrive, reached the Waimea trail at a point leaving the
entire force but a short march to Waipio. A brief halt was ordered,
and the food and water brought by the women were served to their
relatives, and to others if any remained.
Taking no thought of himself, Umi advised his attendants to eat
if they could find food, declaring that he required nothing, and
then threw himself under the shade of a tree for a few minutes of
much-needed rest. A cool breeze fanned his heated face, on which the
beard had as yet grown but lightly, and his heavy eyelids closed,
dropping him gently into the land of shadows, where he bathed in
cool waters and partook of food that was delicious--more delicious,
it seemed, because it was served by Kulamea.
Something awoke him--he scarcely knew what--and his eyes caught the
form of a woman as it vanished behind the tree under which he was
lying. He smiled, and, partially rising, discovered on the ground
beside him a calabash of poi, reduced with water to the consistency of
thick gruel. His mouth and throat were parched, and, without stopping
to learn who had provided it, he raised the vessel to his lips and
drained it to the bottom. It was a goodly draught, and refreshed
him greatly.
Holding the empty calabash in his hand, he began to examine it,
at first carelessly, and then with greater interest, for it was not
a common vessel. Nor was it the first time that he had seen it. It
was the calabash he had carved with images of birds and flowers for
Kulamea before he went to Waipio to become the son of a king.
He beckoned to Maukaleoleo, who was leaning against a tree a few
paces distant, with his head among the branches. The giant smiled as
he approached, as if divining the question Umi was about to ask.
"Did you see the person who left this calabash?" inquired Umi,
exhibiting the vessel.
"I saw her," replied the giant.
"Then it was left by a woman?"
"By a woman."
"Did you observe her?"
"As closely as I ever observe any woman."
"What was her appearance?"
"Ordinary men would describe her, I presume, as being young, graceful
and attractive."
"And you?"
"I would call her a plaything, as I would any other woman whose head
did not touch my beard."
"True," said Umi, smiling as his fancy pictured a becoming mate for
the giant; "you can know but little of women. But would you recognize
the plaything who left this calabash, were you to see her again?"
The giant intimated that he would probably recognize her.
"Then seek among the women of the camp, and, if found, say to her
for Umi that if she prizes the calabash he will return it to her,
if she will claim it after the sun sets to-day and show that she is
the rightful owner."
Maukaleoleo bowed and departed on his errand, and Umi hung the calabash
at his girdle.
Another advance was ordered, and in an hour or less the little army
lay hidden along the brow of the ragged hills overlooking the valley
of Waipio on the south and east and extending to the sea. A fleet
messenger was despatched over the hills to a waterfall, the sound of
which could be heard dropping into the valley from a great height in an
unbroken cataract. He returned, bringing with him a strangely-marked
piece of kapa which he had found suspended from a limb near the verge
of the fall.
It was the final signal of Nunu, and implied that the king's attendants
had been sent to the mountains and sea-shore, and the palace was
defenceless. Preparations were made for an immediate descent into
the valley. As the paths leading down were tortuous and narrow, the
warriors were ordered to break ranks and make the descent as rapidly
and as best they could, and promptly re-form on reaching the valley.
The word was given, and the advance began. First the summit bristled
with spears, then down the hillsides swept a swarm of armed men. In
their rapid descent they seemed to be hopelessly scattered, but they
re-formed on reaching the valley, and in good order advanced toward
the little stream, across which was the royal mansion, and not far
from it the temple of Paakalani.
The wildest excitement prevailed in the village. Some seized
their arms, and others ran toward the hills, but no opposition was
offered. At the head of the little army marched Umi, himself almost
a giant, and by his side the mighty Maukaleoleo, naked but for the
maro about his loins, and bearing a ponderous spear, the ivory point
of which could be seen above the tree-tops.
Plunging into and crossing the stream, detachments were despatched at
a running pace to surround the royal enclosure and cut off all escape,
especially to the puhonui, while with the main force Umi advanced
to the great gate of the outer wall, which had been hastily closed
and fastened, and demanded admission. No reply being made, although
a confusion of voices could be heard from within Umi was about to
order up a force to beat down the gate when Maukaleoleo leaned his
spear against the wall, and, laying hold of a rock which no two
other men could lift, hurled it against the gate, and it was torn
from its fastenings as if struck by a missile from Kilauea. He then
seized the broken obstruction and flung it from the entrance as if it
had been a screen of matting, and Umi and his followers poured into
the enclosure. Driving before them a score or two of hastily-armed
attendants of the king, they raised a wild battle-shout and rushed
toward the palace.
So secret had been the movement of the insurgents, and so rapid was
their advance after reaching the valley, that Hakau was not made
aware of their presence until they began to cross the stream near
the royal mansion. The first information bewildered him. Recovering,
he ordered the gates to be closed and barred, and every one to arm
within the grounds. A messenger was sent to mount the walls and report
the probable number of the assailants; but the most of them were in the
stream at the moment of observation, and the king was relieved with the
assurance that the force did not number more than one or two hundred.
"Then we can beat them off until assistance comes," said Hakau,
confidently. "Hold the gates with your lives!" he shouted; then,
hastily entering the mua, he took from the ipu in which it was
deposited the Kiha-pu, the sacred war-trumpet of the Hawaiian kings,
and sprang to the front of the palace. He placed the shell to his
lips to sound a blast of alarm, which with the breath of Liloa was
wont to swell throughout a radius of ten or twelve miles. Filling
his lungs for a mighty effort, which he doubted not would bring to
his assistance the villagers and feather-hunters despatched to the
hills, he wound a blast through the shell. But no such voice ever
issued before from the mysterious chambers of the Kiha-pu. Instead of
a note of alarm swelling over the hills in wild and warlike cadence,
they gave forth a dreadful discord of torture-wrung screams and groans,
horrifying all within the walls, but scarcely audible beyond them.
Hakau dropped the shell to the earth as if his lips had been burned
with its kiss, and with a feeling of desperation seized a javelin and
grimly awaited the onset at the gate. His suspense was brief. The gate
went down with a crash; and when he saw his handful of defenders retire
before the incoming flood of warriors led by Umi, Hakau retreated to
the mua with three or four of his attendants, where he resolved to
defend himself to the death.
The door of the mua was scarcely barred before Umi reached it. A
hundred warriors pressed forward, but he waved them back. He looked at
Maukaleoleo, and the next moment the door was a mass of splinters. Umi
resolutely stepped within, Kaoleioku, the warrior-priest, at his
side. As he entered, with a hiss Hakau made a thrust at him with
his javelin. Umi caught and wrenched the weapon from his grasp,
and was about to strike when Kaoleioku stayed every uplifted hand
by exclaiming:
"Hold! Let this be a sacrifice, and not a murder! In the name of the
gods I slay him!"
With these words the high-priest drove his ihe through the heart of
Hakau, and he fell dying at the feet of Umi.
Hakau strove to speak, but his words were bitter and choked him.
"Bear him with respect to a couch," said Umi. "He is the son of a king,
and so let him die."
His orders were obeyed, and Hakau, the tyrant king of Hawaii, breathed
his last as Umi turned and left the mua.
The palace was now in the possession of Umi, with its gods, its
sacred emblems, its royal regalia and all the paraphernalia of supreme
authority; but he appreciated that much remained to be done, and that,
too, without delay. The feather-hunters would soon return from the
hills and sea-shore; but they could be dealt with in detail as they
arrived in small parties, and were, therefore, not greatly to be
feared. The distant chiefs summoned by the lunapais of the dead king
were the principal cause of anxiety. Some time during the next day
they would begin to arrive with their quotas of warriors, and Umi was
not quite confident that they would accept the situation peacefully.
To be prepared for any emergency, he ordered his entire force to
quarters within the palace grounds, despatched parties to procure
supplies of food, received the allegiance of the attendants and
guards found in and around the royal mansion, and sent out heralds
to proclaim the death of Hakau by the will of the gods, and the
assumption of sovereign authority by Umi, the son of Liloa.
The Kiha-pu was discovered near the door, where it had been dropped
by Hakau. No one dared to touch it. It was recognized by a chief
who had seen it before, and who guarded it until Umi appeared. The
chief pointed to the sacred shell, and with an exclamation of joy
Umi raised it to his lips and sounded a vigorous blast, which swept
over the valleys and echoed through the hills with its old-time voice
of thunder.
All within the walls were startled. Kaoleioku approached, and Umi
raised the shell and repeated the sonorous blast. "It is not the
breath of Umi," said the priest, impressively; "it is the voice of
the gods proclaiming their approval of the work of this day!"
The body of Hakau was removed to a small structure within the
enclosure, where it was given in charge of his wife and mother,
Kukukalani and Pinea, and their attendants, to be prepared for
burial. And Kapukini, the sister of Hakau and half-sister of Umi,
mourned with them; but her grief was not great, for Hakau had been
unkind even to her.
Before nightfall the feather-hunters began to come in; but the
situation was made known to them on reaching the valley, and such of
them as were not deterred by fear proceeded to the palace and gave
their adherence to Umi, thus relieving him of some slight cause
of apprehension, and considerably augmenting the strength of his
little army.
Umi's promise to his warriors was made good, for that night they ate
their meat in peace within the palace-walls at Waipio. All needed rest,
but not one of them more than Umi himself. The night was dark, but
the air was cool without, and after his evening meal Umi strolled out
and threw himself down on a fold of kapa under the palms in front of
the mansion. He was soon joined by Kaoleioku, his trusty lieutenants
Omaukamau and Piimaiwaa, and several chiefs of distinction.
The events of the day were being discussed, and the possibilities
of the morrow, when Maukaleoleo loomed up in the darkness like
the shadow of a palm, and requested permission to approach the
group. It was granted, of course, for the giant had proven himself
to be one of the stanchest and most valuable of Umi's friends. But
he was not alone. Behind him, and almost hidden by his burly form,
walked Kulamea. She wore a pau of five folds, and over her shoulders
a light kihei of ornamented kapa. Her black hair fell below her waist,
and a woven band of blossoms encircled her head.
"By your instruction," said the giant, bowing before Umi, "I sought out
the woman who left with you beyond the hills to-day a curiously-carved
calabash, and acquainted her with your wish that she should come to
you and claim it. But she feared to do so, because you are now the
king of Hawaii."
"Were I the king of the eight Hawaiian seas she should not fear,"
replied Umi. "Seek and say to her--"
"Let Umi speak the words himself," interrupted the giant; saying which,
he advanced a few paces into a better light, and, stepping aside,
Kulamea stood revealed before the group.
"Kulamea!" exclaimed Umi, rising.
"Kulamea!" repeated Omaukamau, in astonishment, for he did not know
before that his sister was in Waipio. "What evil spirit prompted you
to venture here at such a time as this?"
"Do not chide her, Omaukamau," said Umi, placing his hand tenderly
upon the shoulder of the fair playmate of his youth. "The triumph of
to-day is as much to her as it is to her brave brother, and no one
could be more welcome."
Omaukamau was silent, and Kulamea sank on her knees before Umi. He
raised her to her feet and kissed her; then, taking from his girdle
and placing in her hands the calabash she had come to claim, he said:
"In the presence of all here Umi returns this calabash to Kulamea,
his wife!" Then, leading her to her brother, he continued: "Give her
attendants, and see that she is provided with all else that befits her
station." Omaukamau kissed his sister, and led her into the mansion.
During this scene Maukaleoleo stood looking down upon the group with
folded arms and an amused expression upon his face.
"Perhaps I should have asked your consent," said Umi, smiling and
looking up into the face of the giant.
"Umi is now in a condition to take from his subjects without asking,"
pertinently replied the monster; "but in this instance there seems
to be no other claimant, and the title is unquestioned."
"And have I your approval as well?" inquired Umi, more seriously,
addressing Kaoleioku.
"Better than mine," replied the priest, warmly: "you have the approval
of the gods; for in fulfilling your pledge to a simple and confiding
woman you have kept faith with them."
The rest of the prominent events leading to, and connected with,
the accession of Umi to the moiship of Hawaii, will be very briefly
referred to. As the district chiefs and their warriors arrived at
Waipio in response to the call of the dead king, they accepted the
changed conditions without protest, and promptly tendered their
allegiance to Umi.
The second day after his death Hakau's remains were quietly and without
display taken to the hills and entombed, and the day following Umi
was publicly anointed king of Hawaii in the presence of nearly ten
thousand warriors. The games and festivities of the occasion continued
for ten days.
The Akuapaao was placed in the temple of Paakalani, and at the death
of the venerable Laeanui, which occurred shortly after, Kaoleioku,
who was of the family of Paao, was created high priest.
Omaukamau and Piimaiwaa became the confidential advisers of Umi,
as well as his favorite military captains, and Maukaleoleo served in
his many campaigns, his strength and prowess furnishing subjects for
numerous strange stories still living in Hawaiian tradition.