Between Cape Kumakahi, the extreme eastern point of the island of
Hawaii, and the great lava flow of 1840, which burst forth apparently
from a long subterranean channel connecting with the crater of Kilauea,
and went down to the sea at Nanawale over villages and groves of palms,
is a small historic district which, notwithstanding the repeated
volcanic disturbances with which it has been convulsed in the past,
the chasms with which it has been rent, and the smoke and ashes
that have shut out the light of the sun and driven its people to the
protection of their temples, still possesses many fertile nooks and
natural attractions. Within a few miles of each other, not far inland,
are a number of extinct craters; but the rains are abundant in Puna,
and spring is eternal, and the vegetation grows rank above hidden
patches of lava, and is constantly stretching and deepening its mantle
of green over the vitreous rivers of Kilauea and the lower and lesser
volcanic vents clinging to its base like so many cauterized ulcers.
The valleys are green in that part of Puna now, and there the banana
and the bread-fruit grow, and the ohia and pineapple scent the air. But
so has it not always been, for the mango ripens over fields of buried
lava, and the palms grow tall from the refilled chasms of dead streams
of fire. The depression of Kapoho, now sweet with tropical odors,
marks the site of a sunken mountain, and where to-day sleep the quiet
waters of a lake once boiled a sea of liquid lava, in a basin broader,
perhaps, than the mighty caldron of Kilauea.
We are now about to speak of one of the many irruptions which
at intervals in the past poured their desolating torrents of fire
through the district, alternately loved and hated by Pele, the dreadful
goddess of the volcanoes. In connection with it tradition has brought
down a tale combining elements of simplicity and grandeur strikingly
characteristic of the mythological legends of Polynesia--legends
equaling the Norse in audacity, but lacking the motive and connecting
causes of the Greek. They are simply legendary epics, beginning
in caprice and abruptly ending, in many instances, in grandest
tumult. They are like chapters torn from a lost volume--patches of
disturbed elements and gigantic forms and energies clandestinely
cut from a passing panorama and placed in the foreground of strange
and inharmonious conditions. They embrace gods reminding us of Thor,
monsters more hideous than Polyphemus, demi-gods mighty as the son of
Thetis, and kings with strains reaching back to the loins of gods; but
in motive and action they were independent of, and not unfrequently
hostile to, each other. No celestial synod shaped their course or
moved them to effort, and to no authority higher than their individual
wills were they usually responsible. Many of them were created with
no reference to the necessity of their being or the maintenance of
divine respect or authority, and not a few seem to have been the
creations of accident.
As an example the demi-god Maui may be mentioned. As told by tradition,
his principal abode was Hawaii, although his facilities for visiting
the other islands of the group will be considered ample when it is
stated that he could step from one to another, even from Oahu to Kauai,
a distance of seventy miles. When he bathed--and bathing was one of
his greatest delights--his feet trod the deepest basins of the ocean
and his hair was moistened with the vapor of the clouds. Neither his
creator nor the purpose of his creation is mentioned; but he was blest
with a wife with proportions, it is presumed, somewhat in keeping with
his own, and as an evidence of their attachment it is related that
at one time he reached up and seized the sun, and held it for some
hours motionless in the heavens, to enable his industrious spouse to
complete the manufacture of a piece of kapa upon which she was engaged.
And Kana was another gigantic being of similar proportions. He,
too, was partial to Hawaii, and could step from island to island,
and frequently stood for his amusement with one foot on Oahu and the
other either on Maui or Kauai. Tradition may have confounded these two
monsters; but, as Kana was wifeless, we are constrained to regard them
as distinct; and, being without the care of a wife, he was enabled
to devote his entire attention to himself and the inhabitants of
the islands crawling at his feet. Hence, when the king of Kahiki,
who was the keeper of the sun, shut its light from the Hawaiians
for some trivial offence, Kana waded the ocean to the home of the
vindictive monarch, and by threats compelled him to restore the light
to the Hawaiian group. This done, he waded back and hung his mantle to
dry on Mauna Kea, which was then an active volcano. Another demi-god
of the same name is also referred to in some of the early meles of
Hawaii. He was the son of Hina, who went with his brother to the
rescue of their mother, who had been during their infancy abducted
by the son of the king of Molokai. He was endowed by his grandmother,
a sorceress from one of the southern islands, with the faculty of so
elongating and contracting his person as to be able to pass through
the deepest waters with his head at all times above the surface.
The shadows of these and other monsters are seen far back in the past;
but human beings of gigantic proportions, of natural birth and claiming
no connection with the gods, are mentioned in Hawaiian folk-lore as
having lived as late as the beginning of the sixteenth century. Thus,
during the reign of Umi, king of Hawaii, whose romantic ascent to
the throne is the theme of chant and song, and to whom the past and
present dynasties of united Hawaii trace their descent, lived the
giant Maukaleoleo. He was one of Umi's warriors, and must have been a
mighty host in himself. His measure in feet is not recorded, but he
stood upon the ground and plucked cocoanuts from the tallest trees,
and once, without wetting his loins, strode out into six fathoms of
water and saved the life of his chief. As the traditions relating
to Umi are quite elaborate and circumstantial, the existence of
Maukaleoleo cannot well be doubted, however greatly we may feel
disposed to curtail his proportions.
But, in groping among these monsters of the Hawaiian past, we
have been led somewhat from the story of the irruption in Puna,
to which reference has been made. However, as pertinent to it, and
to the goddess whose wrath invoked it, it may be mentioned that
many centuries ago a family of gods and goddesses came to Hawaii
from Tahiti and took possession of the volcanic mountains of that
island. The family consisted of five brothers and nine sisters, of
which Pele was the principal deity. The others possessed specific
powers and functions, such as controlling the fires, smoke, steam,
explosions, etc., of the volcanoes under their supervision. Although
they frequently dwelt in other volcanoes, their principal and favorite
abode was the crater of Kilauea. Almost without exception they were
destructive and merciless. Temples were erected to Pele in every
district menaced by volcanic disturbance, and offerings of fruits,
animals, and sometimes of human beings were laid upon her altars and
thrown into the crater to secure her favor or placate her wrath. In
the legend of "The Apotheosis of Pele" a more extended reference is
made to the goddess and her family.
With this knowledge of the power and disposition of Pele, the reader
will be prepared for the story of the exhibition of her wrath in Puna,
which will now be related nearly in the language of tradition. The
event occurred during the reign of Kahoukapu, who from about 1340 to
1380 was the alii-nui, or governing chief, of Hawaii. The chief of
the district of Puna was Kahavari, a young noble distinguished for his
strength, courage and manly accomplishments. How he came to be chief or
governor of Puna is not stated. As his father and sister lived on Oahu,
he was probably a native of that island, and may have been advanced
to his position through military service rendered the Hawaiian king,
since it was customary in those days, as it was at later periods,
for young men of martial tastes to seek adventure and employment at
arms with the kings and chiefs of neighboring islands.
The grass-thatched mansion of the young chief was near Kapoho, where
his wife lived with their two children, Paupoulu and Kaohe; and at
Kukii, no great distance away, dwelt his old mother, then on a visit to
her distinguished son. As his taro lands were large and fertile, and he
had fish-ponds on the sea-shore, he entertained with prodigality, and
the people of Puna thought there was no chief like him in all Hawaii.
It was at the time of the monthly festival of Lono. The day was
beautiful. The trade-winds were bending the leaves of the palms
and scattering the spray from the breakers chasing each other over
the reef. A holua contest had been announced between the stalwart
young chief and his favorite friend and companion, Ahua, and a large
concourse of men, women and children had assembled at the foot of the
hill to witness the exciting pastime. They brought with them drums,
ohes, ulilis, rattling gourds and other musical instruments, and while
they awaited the coming of the contestants all frolicked as if they
were children--frolicked as was their way before the white man came
to tell them they were nearly naked, and that life was too serious
a thing to be frittered away in enjoyment. They ate ohias, cocoanuts
and bananas under the palms, and chewed the pith of sugar-cane. They
danced, sang and laughed at the hula and other sports of the children,
and grew nervous with enthusiasm when their bards chanted the meles
of by-gone years.
The game of holua consists in sliding down a sometimes long but
always steep hill on a narrow sledge from six to twelve feet in
length, called a papa. The light and polished runners, bent upward
at the front, are bound quite closely together, with cross-bars
for the hands and feet. With a run at the top of the sliding track,
slightly smoothed and sometimes strewn with rushes, the rider throws
himself face downward on the narrow papa and dashes headlong down
the hill. As the sledge is not more than six or eight inches in
width, with more than as many feet in length, one of the principal
difficulties of the descent is in keeping it under the rider; the
other, of course, is in guiding it; but long practice is required to
master the subtleties of either. Kahavari was an adept with the papa,
and so was Ahua. Rare sport was therefore expected, and the people
of the neighborhood assembled almost in a body to witness it.
Finally appearing at the foot of the hill, Kahavari and his companion
were heartily cheered by their good-natured auditors. Their papas
were carried by attendants. The chief smiled upon the assemblage,
and as he struck his tall spear into the ground and divested his
broad shoulders of the kihei covering them, the wagers of fruit and
pigs were three to one that he would reach the bottom first, although
Ahua was expert with the papa, and but a month before had beaten the
champion of Kau on his own ground.
Taking their sledges under their arms, the contestants laughingly
mounted the hill with firm, strong strides, neither thinking of
resting until the top was gained. Stopping for a moment preparatory
to the descent, a comely-looking woman stepped out from behind a
clump of undergrowth and bowed before them. Little attention was
paid to her until she approached still nearer and boldly challenged
Kahavari to contest the holua with her instead of Ahua. Exchanging a
smile of amusement with his companion, the chief scanned the lithe
and shapely figure of the woman for a moment, and then exclaimed,
more in astonishment than in anger: "What! with a woman?"
"And why not with a woman, if she is your superior and you lack not
the courage?" was the calm rejoinder.
"You are bold, woman," returned the chief, with something of a
frown. "What know you of the papa?"
"Enough to reach the bottom of the hill in front of the chief of Puna,"
was the prompt and defiant answer.
"Is it so, indeed? Then take the papa and we will see!" said Kahavari,
with an angry look which did not seem to disturb the woman in the
least.
At a motion from the chief, Ahua handed his papa to the woman, and the
next moment Kahavari, with the strange contestant closely behind him,
was dashing down the hill. On, on they went, around and over rocks,
at break-neck speed; but for a moment the woman lost her balance,
and Kahavari reached the end of the course a dozen paces in advance.
Music and shouting followed the victory of the chief, and, scowling
upon the exultant multitude, the woman pointed to the hill, silently
challenging the victor to another trial. They mounted the hill without
a word, and turned for another start.
"Stop!" said the woman, while a strange light flashed in her
eyes. "Your papa is better than mine. If you would act fairly, let
us now exchange!"
"Why should I exchange?" replied the chief, hastily. "You are neither
my wife nor my sister, and I know you not. Come!" And, presuming the
woman was following him, Kahavari made a spring and dashed down the
hill on his papa.
With this the woman stamped her foot, and a river of burning lava burst
from the hill and began to pour down into the valley beneath. Reaching
the bottom, Kahavari rose and looked behind him, and to his horror saw
a wide and wild torrent of lava rushing down the hillside toward the
spot where he was standing; and riding on the crest of the foremost
wave was the woman--now no longer disguised, but Pele, the dreadful
goddess of Kilauea--with thunder at her feet and lightning playing
with her flaming tresses.
Seizing his spear, Kahavari, accompanied by Ahua, fled for his life
to the small eminence of Puukea. He looked behind, and saw the entire
assemblage of spectators engulfed in a sea of fire. With terrible
rapidity the valleys began to fill, and he knew that his only hope of
escape was in reaching the ocean, for it was manifest that Pele was
intent upon his destruction. He fled to his house, and, passing it
without stopping, said farewell to his mother, wife and children, and
to his favorite hog Aloipuaa. Telling them that Pele was in pursuit
of him with a river of fire, and to save themselves, if possible,
by escaping to the hills, he left them to their fate.
Coming to a chasm, he saw Pele pouring down it to cut off his
retreat. He crossed on his spear, pulling his friend over after
him. At length, closely pursued, he reached the ocean. His brother,
discovering the danger, had just landed from his fishing canoe and
gone to look after the safety of his family. Kahavari leaped into the
canoe with his companion, and, using his spear for a paddle, was soon
beyond the reach of the pursuing lava. Enraged at his escape, Pele
ran some distance into the water and hurled after him huge stones,
that hissed as they struck the waves, until an east wind sprang up
and carried him far out to sea.
He first reached the island of Maui, and thence by the way of Lanai
found his way to Oahu, where he remained to the end of his days. All
of his relatives in Puna perished, with hundreds of others in the
neighborhood of Kapoho. But he never ventured back to Puna, the grave
of his hopes and his people, for he believed Pele, the unforgiving,
would visit the place with another horror if he did.
Pele had come down from Kilauea in a pleasant mood to witness the holua
contest; but Kahavari angered her unwittingly, and what followed has
just been described.