“A smile amid dark frowns! A gentle tone
Amid rude voices—a beloved light,
A solitude, a refuge, a delight!”
SHELLEY.
Night being close at hand, the rescued party lost no time in leaving the
vicinity of the torrent of lava, hoping to find a path which would bring
them to the food and shelter which they so greatly needed. Tolta knew he
was within the immediate territory of Pohaku, and was desirous to meet
some of his people, to make sure of his captives, who were now quite
as able to exert their wills as to the course they should take, as he
his. But they were wholly ignorant of their position, while he began to
discern familiar landmarks. The recent danger which they had all incurred
and escaped together, occupied the thoughts of Beatriz and Olmedo, more
than the outrage which had led them into it, so they made no opposition
to the direction he prepared to take.
This led them at first obliquely towards a stream of lava, which was
still running at about two miles from them to the northeast. For some
time their path was comparatively smooth. But at intervals it was
crossed by crevices in the earth, some of which were so wide that they
were compelled to make long circuits to get round them. The air from
them was quivering with heat, and filled with noxious gases. Tolta was
frequently obliged to leave his companions in order to explore the
ground, which became, as they advanced, more and more cut up with chasms,
whose depths the eye often could not reach. Had it not been daylight
these fissures would have made their present position scarcely less
hazardous than their confinement in the cave, for at every throe of the
crater they threw out jets of steam, and filled the atmosphere with
poisonous fumes. Once or twice they came upon them so suddenly, that they
were obliged to cover their heads with their mantles, and rush through
the vapor at full speed. Fortunately they proved to be but puffs, which
required but an instant’s exertion to emerge from.
Beatriz had grown so faint and fatigued as to be forced often to stop
to gather breath and strength. On one of these occasions Tolta had gone
farther from them than usual, in search of the path which he hoped to
strike, and which led direct to Pohaku’s fortress. Not finding it, he
was returning in another direction, when his progress was stopped by a
broad chasm, which poured forth so hot a blast as to singe his clothes
and crisp his hair, as he heedlessly looked into it. Jumping quickly
back, he followed its edge in search of a spot narrow enough for him to
leap across. In doing this he came upon the path he had been looking for.
It led through low bushes which partly hid it. He was about taking the
shortest track back to where he had left Olmedo and Beatriz, when his
eye was caught by a human form stretched lifeless upon the ground. Going
towards it, to his surprise he recognized one of the warriors whom he had
sent to capture the three Spaniards. It was plain that he had been stiff
and cold for some hours. Not far from him he found the entire party,
with the three Spaniards bound and lying on their backs, in the centre
of their guards. One by one he felt of them to detect life. There were
no signs of external violence on their bodies. Each lay apparently as he
had fallen asleep. The faces and limbs of some were slightly contracted,
showing that they had become conscious of their danger, when powerless to
escape. All were dead. They had encamped too near the chasm, and, during
the night, by a change of wind, the fatal air had been blown upon them,
and they had perished in their dreams to a man.[2]
“Pele balks me every way—the foul goddess! may she be blasted in her
own fires,” muttered Tolta, as he turned in angry mood from the scene.
“She leaves me only those I would not sacrifice. I hate the priest,
yet I would he might die by other hands than mine. Pshaw! why should I
feel tenderness towards that puling monk! Who so stands between me and
Beatriz as he? But while Juan lives I have much to do. This is no sight
for Beatriz and Olmedo to see. I will send and get the heads of the
Spaniards. In death even they shall be present at the feast which was to
have been their sacrifice. May their souls rot in everlasting darkness.”
Joining Olmedo and Beatriz, he led them into the path by a course which
kept their eyes from the fatal spot. “Hasten,” said he, “we shall shortly
find succor.”
“Beatriz needs it much,” replied Olmedo; “see with what effort she
sustains herself.”
“Oh! say not so, Olmedo. I am still equal to any exertion. The hot air
made me giddy for a moment, but now the fresh breeze revives me.” But her
action belied her words, and she would have fallen that moment if Olmedo
had not caught her.
“Tolta, you have greatly erred in exposing this maiden to these dangers.
What tempted you to such a wrong to one who never gave you offence. The
blood, too, of those heathen warriors, does it not lie heavy on your
soul? You have made a sad day of it?” said Olmedo to the Mexican, more
in grief than in anger, as he helped Beatriz to reach a grassy slope on
which she could recline.
“Ha, priest! you reproach me with this day’s work! Am I a god to control
the volcano? Come with me a few steps, and you shall see from what you
have been saved.” He grasped Olmedo’s arm, and led him to the group of
the dead. “You and the maiden you love, chaste monk,” continued he with
artful sarcasm, “have escaped this. Had I not borne you off, these
soldiers would have seized you, and if they had spared Beatriz outrage,
it would have been for you all either to have died together, like dogs,
poisoned by the gases of the volcano, or they would have carried you as
prisoners to their chief, who awaits your arrival even now, to offer you
in solemn sacrifice to Pele. He has sworn to exterminate you Spaniards,
and Kiana’s power will be but smoke before the wind in contact with his.
All of you I could not save! Have I reason to love a Spaniard?”
Pointing to the corpses of the three seamen, he added in a seemingly
friendly tone, “They have been spared such torture as even we Mexicans,
skilled as we are in tormenting our enemies, never learned; for Pele’s
worshippers are fiends. Reproach me not with their deaths, for it was
given to them in mercy. You and the maiden are my benefactors; for your
sakes I will save Juan also, if it be possible. You must go with me.
Follow my directions, and you will be safe. No more words now. If you
would keep Beatriz from further harm, cease to chafe me.”
Returning to where she sat, they again slowly pursued their journey. As
Tolta hurried on in advance, Olmedo whispered to Beatriz, “I much fear
the Mexican intends evil. I would not wrong him, but I do not like his
words, and his eye often gleams as if the evil spirit of his race were
aroused within him.”
He did not tell her what he had seen, but merely added, “Watch, and
beware of him. He can do us much good or ill. Now we can do but little
for ourselves. The blessed mother of God will not desert you, rest
assured, my beloved daughter.” Even with his arm about her waist she
walked with difficulty, while her head frequently drooped heavily upon
his shoulder.
“I have no fear, Olmedo, for myself,” she faintly replied. “We have
together too often looked upon death to shrink from it now as a stranger.
To leave you, would make me indeed sad, but with you,—God forgive me if
my heart sins in saying so,—it would be most welcome? But look, who comes
here?”
[Illustration]
As she spoke, a crowd of natives, of both sexes, drew nigh from a cross
path. They did not see the party until they were close upon them. Tolta
was at once recognized, and giving him the customary _“Aloha kealii_”
‘love to you chief,’ they turned in surprise towards the white strangers.
They had heard of the Spaniards, but knowing nothing of Tolta’s
expedition, were amazed to find these strange beings in their midst.
Forming a circle around them, they gazed curiously and timidly at Olmedo
and Beatriz, now and then venturing to touch their clothes and feel of
their persons, but evidently with no unfriendly intent.
The party was composed chiefly of women and children, who had been
enjoying themselves in wild dances. A few young men, hardly beyond
boyhood, were with them, but no warriors.
Tolta ordered some to lead the way to their village, while others were
sent on in advance to prepare food and lodging for the strangers, who he
said would be their guests for the night. As they began with alacrity
to fulfil his orders, a maiden of not above fourteen years, accompanied
by a train of her own sex, of more mature age, and who showed her
great deference, came up. As soon as the crowd saw her, they made way
submissively for her to approach the whites.
No fawn could tread lighter than she trod. Every motion was lithe and
elastic. Her limbs were full and tapering, beautifully proportioned, and
her flesh soft yet springy. With so few summers she was mature in person,
having in this climate attained thus early that perfection of physical
development, which marks the most seductive period of woman. The fineness
of her hands; the tapering fingers and nicely adjusted wrists; the velvet
softness of her clear olive skin, and through which the blood could
be distinctly seen underlying it with richer color; and her proud, yet
graceful carriage, showed that she belonged to the highest rank.
She was indeed one of Nature’s pets. Her face was open and sunny. To
one who rigidly exacted the fineness of Grecian outline in each feature
of the face, some fault might be found with the fulness of the lip and
nostril. But this was so slight that it was lost in the generous loving
smile, laughing, sensuous eye,—sympathy in the joyful and beautiful
which sparkled in her countenance. This, with a consciousness of rank,
and a dignity which had never suffered from the passions of rivalry and
ambition, made Liliha,—for such was the name of the maiden,—a specimen
of natural loveliness, which the salons of civilization might not excel,
except in the acquired refinements of intellectual life.
She wore on her neck a wreath of rich yellow feathers. Another of
gossamer lightness, the effect of which was increased by alternate rows
of crimson feathers, was interwoven with her long dark wavy hair. Over
her delicately moulded bosom was thrown a loose white mantle, which hid
her form as the foam conceals the wave, but to heighten its beauty.
She was no less surprised than her people at the apparition of the
whites. Tolta she had heard of as the companion of Pohaku, but had
never seen him. “Who is it that gives orders in my presence,” she asked
somewhat haughtily, as she stepped forward.
Tolta advanced to greet her, and made himself known. Acknowledging his
claim to her aid by the tie of allegiance to the supreme chief, she
coolly repeated his orders, as if through her only they should be given,
and then with courteous manner turned to Beatriz, took her hand and said,
“You are welcome. Come with me; the daughter of Hewahewa will be the
friend of the pale maiden.”
Beatriz looked her thanks, and simply said, “My father needs your
hospitality too. We will gladly make your home ours until we can return
to our own.”
Tolta kept silent. It was dark before the party arrived at the abode of
Liliha, which was in a considerable village, pleasantly situated in the
centre of one of the few verdant spots to be found in that region. Olmedo
was allowed to occupy one of the best houses, where every attention
was shown him. Liliha led Beatriz to her own habitation, where she
was received with true Hawaiian hospitality. At a signal from their
mistress, her waiting women made her up a couch of the finest mats,
and before retiring they so refreshed her by their gentle, soothing
manipulations,[3] by which the pain was drawn out from her wearied
limbs, that she was soon able to sleep soundly.