“How often events, by chance and unexpectedly come to pass,
which you had not dared even to hope for.”—TERENCE.
Night came and went; when morning broke, the same stillness rested on the
valley. All of its guests still slept the deep sleep of fatigue, except
Tolta, who had thought he heard at intervals distant sounds that fell
mockingly upon his ear for a moment, and then died away into profound
silence. Cautiously he had listened and peered into the deep shadows of
hill and forest, but had detected nothing. As often, however, as he had
sunk again into restless slumber, the same strange sounds came to him.
The air seemed filled with them; voices and laughter, the tramp of feet
and cries of animals, yet so vague and intermingled, that at last he
fancied there was a spell upon the valley; that its inhabitants had all
perished by demoniacal violence, and unseen by mortal eyes, during the
night, came back to haunt their late homes.
This solution of the mystery was not calculated to reassure him, and he
became more restless than before. Visions of his native land mingled
themselves with the phantom forms and sounds which disturbed his
slumbers. His imagination vibrated between joy and fear, without a
moment’s pause to give him rest. Gradually, however, as morning twilight
came up over the hill tops, he fancied he detected shadowy outlines of
men, sharp against the horizon, passing rapidly into the gloom further
down. His terrors were then realized. He saw the ghosts that had so
disturbed his slumbers fleeing before the coming day, and he shuddered as
with a grave-chill.
A cock suddenly crowed afar off. Tolta started as if the trumpet of
Cortez had sounded in his ears. His blood tingled once more in his
veins. Another and another crow, nearer and nearer; the morning air is
suddenly filled with their rival notes. A dog barks! Scores of dogs’
throats open in reply. Human voices are now distinctly heard. Groups of
men, women, and children, can be plainly seen descending into the valley
from the wooded uplands. He watches their motions, half doubting his own
senses. A band orderly marching approaches the enclosure. He sees among
them the sharp array of lances, and the brilliant colors of feathered
casques and cloaks. They recall to him the warriors of Mexico, and he
exults in their martial tread and warlike aspect. His first impulse is
to rush forward and greet them. “Now shall Spanish blood again be shed,
and their false hearts quiver on the altars of Mexico’s war-god! Here in
this teocalli, shall the incense so sweet to Huitzilpotcli’s nostrils
once more ascend;” and in his dreamy excitement he rushed forward as if
to strike the serpent-skin drum, whose terrible signal had so often been
the death-warrant to his country’s invaders.
Shall Beatriz die this death? No sooner did she occur to him, than his
fierceness passed away like a spent surge. All other emotions were lost
in the desire to protect her. Stepping quietly inside the house, he woke
Juan and motioned him to follow.
As they passed out and looked over the parapet, they saw considerable
stir among the warriors. They were coming towards them at great speed,
and evidently with no friendly intent. Their leader had caught sight
of Tolta as he left the wall to awaken Juan, and indignant at what he
supposed a violation of the tabu, by one of his people, ordered them to
surround the enclosure, so as to prevent the possibility of escape, while
he with a few followers ascended by the narrow stone steps, that he might
slay the sacrilegious wretch with his own hand.
By the time Kiana—for it was he—had nearly reached the platform, Juan had
arrived at the gate-way, and at a glance took in his whole position.
“Tonatiuh can now strike the infidel,” said Tolta with sarcastic
emphasis, as he recalled Juan’s unwise speech of the day before, at the
same time pointing to Kiana, whose rapid strides would in another instant
bring him in front of Alvirez. The Mexican then re-entered the house to
warn Beatriz of their new danger.
Juan had too often encountered as fearful odds, in his Mexican
campaigns, to lose his presence of mind in a crisis like this. He called
to his men to come to his succor, as he prepared to hold the gate-way
against his foes, and shouting his accustomed battle-cry, drew his long
Toledo blade, and advanced it in guard to await Kiana’s onset.
This chief in his rush up the steps had not fairly lifted his eyes until
the shout of “Santiago for Spain” reached his ears. His astonishment at
the apparition of the white man,—the gleaming steel, fierce eyes, thick
red beard and strange tongue, the costume so unlike his people’s,—instead
of the expected tawny hue of his own race, brought him to a sudden stop.
It was but for a moment, for, excited by his previous fury at a crime so
uncommon among his people, he saw only an offender who seemed aided by
sorcery, and rushed at him with uplifted javelin, reserving his force
to strike and not to throw. So sudden and powerful was his spring, that
although Juan’s sword parried the blow, he was borne backward, and Kiana
found himself on the platform.
Both paused as they now better saw each other’s strength and strangeness.
Kiana’s surprise was increased as Juan’s men, followed by Olmedo with
crucifix in hand, came hastily up and ranged themselves at his side. His
own soldiers were fast crowding upon the platform, filled with wonder
rather than fear, at so unexpected a sight. At his command they were
filing off to surround Juan’s little band, and close in upon them, while
he upraised his javelin, prepared once more to tempt the skill of his
strange enemy. His right foot was advanced, his broad chest thrown out
and weapon poised to try again the thrust, which had never before failed
him, when a new cry was heard and a new figure came forward and sprung
between him and Alvirez.
It was Beatriz. Her long flowing robes, dishevelled hair, her pallor and
the impulsive energy with which she pushed aside Juan’s sword, and turned
her eager eyes towards Kiana, fearlessly fronting his javelin, amazed the
red-men. Their weapons dropped silently by their sides, as their chief
gazed in astonishment with powerless arm upon the new apparition.
Kiana’s indecision was, however, only momentary. A sudden thought had
seized him. Turning to his followers he said, “Behold Lono and his wife!
they have returned with their faces brightened, and their speech changed,
from their abode in the sun. They have come as Lono promised, with new
teachers and good gifts. Let us honor them and make them welcome.” As he
spoke every weapon was laid upon the earth, and every head was bowed.
Kiana alone stood erect, asserting his dignity even in the presence of a
returned god.
Whatever his native sense might have suggested in regard to the origin
of the group before him, his sagacity in turning the ideas of his people
into their present channel, was safety to the one side, and direct
benefit to himself. He recognized at once a superiority in their armor
and habiliments, which evinced a knowledge far beyond that of his own
people. They could be useful to him in many ways. Naturally humane and
generous, after his first anger had cooled, he would not have harmed a
hair of their heads. On the contrary, he and his people, had they found
them helpless on the shore, would have tenderly received them. Now that
he saw the tabu had not been violated, but that so far from sacrilege, an
event had occurred that appeared to all miraculous, and confirmatory of
the traditions of his ancestry, he determined to receive the strangers as
his own kin, while he confirmed in the minds of his people the belief in
their divinity. As the common Hawaiian’s idea of a god was of a being not
more removed from him in power and intelligence than was the white man,
this was an easy affair.
Accordingly he gave orders that they should be provided with suitable
retinues and lands, and servants assigned to them as of his own family.
His decision was proclaimed by the public heralds. Great were the
rejoicings and shouts throughout the valley, that Lono and his wife had
come back and were to protect them from their enemies, and enrich them by
new arts and gifts. The simple people believed and prostrated themselves
deferentially before Juan and Beatriz. Their persons and those of the
others were tabued or made sacred. No follower of Kiana’s dared lift his
hand toward them, except to do them service or honor. The change from the
peril of immediate massacre, to being worshipped as divine personages,
was so striking, that while they realized its advantages, they could
not, before they had acquired the easy tongue of Hawaii, fully comprehend
its cause. The seamen, however, readily domesticated themselves, taking
wives, and were soon placed on the footing of petty chiefs.