Sailing along the lee-shore or southwest coast of Lanai, a huge block
of red lava, sixty feet in diameter and eighty or more feet in height,
is discerned standing out in the sea, and detached from the mainland
some fifty or sixty fathoms. The sides are precipitous, offering no
possible means of ascent, and against it the waves dash in fury, and
in the niches of its storm-worn angles the birds of ocean build their
nests. Observed from the overhanging bluff of the neighboring shore,
on the summit of the lonely column is seen a small enclosure formed
by a low but well-defined stone wall. This is known as "The tomb
of Puupehe"--the last resting-place of one of the most beautiful of
the daughters of Maui, whose body was buried there by her distracted
husband and lover, Makakehau, a warrior of Lanai. How the summit was
reached by the lover with his precious burden is a mystery, but the
wall is still there to show that the ascent was made in some manner,
and tradition assumes that it was through the agency of supernatural
forces.
Puupehe was the daughter of Uaua, a petty chief of Maui, and Makakehau
won her, it is related without detail, as the joint prize of love and
war. How this could have occurred it is difficult to imagine, since
Lanai was always a dependency of Maui in the past, and no direct wars
between the two islands are mentioned by tradition. It may therefore be
inferred that she was the spoil of some private predatory expedition,
and that the efforts of the young warrior to jealously seclude her
from the gaze of men were prompted not more by the infatuations of
her beauty than the fear that she might be recaptured.
However this may have been, they are described in the Kanikau, or
"Lamentation of Puupehe," as mutually captive to each other in the
bonds of love. The maiden was a sweet flower of Hawaiian beauty. Her
glossy brown and spotless body "shone like the clear sun rising out
of Heleakala." Her flowing hair, bound by wreaths of pikaki blossoms,
streamed forth as she ran "like the surf-crests scudding before the
wind," and the starry eyes of the daughter of Uaua so dazzled the
youthful brave that he was called Makakehau, or "Misty Eyes."
Fearing that the radiant beauty of his captive might cause her to be
coveted by some of the chiefs of the land, he said to her: "We love
each other well. Let us go to the clear waters of Kalulu. There we
will fish together for the kala and bonita, and there will I spear
the turtle. I will hide you, O light of my heart! in the cave of
Malauea. Or we will dwell together in the great ravine of Palawai,
where we will eat the young of the uwau, and bake them in the ti leaf
with the sweet pala root. The ohelo berries of the Kuahiwa will refresh
us, and we will drink of the cool waters of Maunalei. I will thatch a
hut in the thicket of Kaohai, and we will love on till the stars die."
The meles tell of their loves in the Pulou Ravine, where they caught
the bright iwi birds and scarlet apapani. How sweet were their joys
in the maia groves of Waiakeakua, where the lovers saw naught so
beautiful as themselves! But the misty eyes were soon to be made
dimmer by weeping, and dimmer till the drowning brine should shut
out their light for ever.
Makakehau left his love one day in the cave of Malauea, while he went
to the mountain to fill the huawai with sweet water. This cavern yawns
at the base of the cliff overlooking the rock of Puupehe. The sea
surges far within, but there is an inner space or chamber which the
expert swimmer can reach, and where Puupehe had often found seclusion,
and baked the honu, or sea-turtle, for her absent lover.
This was the season for the kona, the terrific storm that comes
up from the equator, and hurls the billows of ocean with increased
violence against the southern shores of the Hawaiian Islands.
Makakehau beheld from the rocky springs of Pulou the vanguard of an
approaching kona--scuds of rain and thick mist rushing with a howling
wind across the round valley of Palawai. He knew the storm would fill
the cave with a wild and sudden rush of waters, and destroy the life
of his beautiful Puupehe.
Every moment was precious. He flung aside his calabashes of water,
and at the top of his speed started down the mountain. With mighty and
rapid strides he crossed the great valley, where he met the coming
storm in its fury. Over the rim he dashed with an agonized heart,
and down the ragged slope of the kula to the shore, which the waves
were already lashing in a voice of thunder.
The sea was up, indeed! The yeasty foam of surging, wind-rent billows
whitened the cliffs, and the tempest chorussed the mad anthem of the
battling waves. Oh! where should Misty Eyes seek for his love in the
blinding storm?
A rushing mountain of sea fills the mouth of the cave of Malauea, and
the pent air within hurls back the invading torrent with a stubborn
roar, blowing outward great streams of spray. It is a savage war of
the elements--a battle of the forces of nature well calculated to
thrill with pleasure the hearts of strong men. But a lover looking
into the seething gulf of the whirlpool--what would be to him the
sublime conflict? what to see amid the boiling brine the upturned
face and tender body of the idol of his heart?
Others might agonize on the brink, but Misty Eyes sprang into the
dreadful caldron and snatched his lifeless love from the jaws of an
ocean grave.
The next day fishermen heard the lamentation of Makakehau, and the
women of the valley came down and wailed over Puupehe. They wrapped
her body in bright, new kapa, and covered it with garlands of fragrant
nauu. They prepared it for interment, and were about to place it in
the burial ground of Manele; but Makakehau prayed that he might be
left alone one night more with his lost love, and the request was
not refused.
When the women returned the morning following they found neither
corpse nor wailing lover. At length, looking toward the rock of
Puupehe, they discovered Makakehau at work on the lofty apex of
the lone sea-tower. The wondering people of the island watched
him with amazement from the neighboring cliffs, but, heedless of
their observation, he continued his labors. Some sailed around the
base of the column in their canoes, but could discover no means of
ascent. Every face of the rock was either perpendicular or overhanging.
The conviction then became general--since there seemed to be no other
possible explanation--that some sympathizing akua, or spirit, had
responded to the prayer of Makakehau, and assisted him in reaching
the summit of the tower with the body of his dead bride; and in this
form has tradition brought down the touching story.
Makakehau finished his labors. He laid his love in a grave prepared
by his own hands, placed the last stone upon it, and then stretched
out his arms and thus wailed for Puupehe:
"Where are you, O Puupehe?
Are you in the cave of Malauea?
Shall I bring you sweet water,
The water of the fountain?
Shall I bring the uwau,
The pala and ohelo?
Are you baking the honu?
And the red, sweet hala?
Shall I pound the kalo of Maui?
Shall we dip in the gourd together?
The bird and the fish are bitter,
And the mountain water is sour.
I shall drink it no more;
I shall drink with Aipuhi,
The great shark of Manele."
Ceasing his sad wail, Makakehau gazed for a moment upon the grave where
were buried the light and hope of his life, and then leaped from the
rock into the boiling surge at its base. His body was crushed in the
breakers. The witnesses of the sacrifice secured the mangled remains
of the dead lover, and interred them with respect in the kupapau
of Manele.
This is the story told by the old bards of Lanai of the lonely rock
of Puupehe, and the still inaccessible summit, with the marks of a
grave upon it, attests with reasonable certainty that: the mele has
something of a foundation in fact.