received the news, went almost stark mad with anger. His followers
whispered one to another that he had become “_hehena_,” and quailed
before him, or, if possible, kept themselves afar from the royal
enclosure. At length, however, the paroxysm passed and counsel took the
place of passion. There sits Kahekili, a mighty man yet, in spite of
his years, emaciated somewhat through the drinking of awa, but terrible
to look on. One side of his body was tattooed almost black, the other
retained its natural hue, his eyes were somewhat heavy, yet now and
again lustrous with his thoughts. Long had he dreamed of being the
possessor of Kualoa. It was his “Naboth’s Vineyard.” Here were ivory
and whalebone enough to make him rich and envied. He had deemed the
fool Kahahana sufficiently his creature and vassal not to gainsay him
in such a matter as this. Now, wherefore should he not pronounce the
word and send out the black _maika_-stone to the chiefs for war?
But other and craftier counsels prevailed. Why go to the trouble of war
if he could break the power of Oahu some easier way? Oahu was strong
and formidable in battle array, thanks to the counsel of the priest
Kaopulupulu. The issue of conflict on the field was by no means assured
while he remained by Kahahana’s side. Kaopulupulu removed, the fruit
of Oahu would fall from the tree into his hands. Were it not better
to proceed craftily? Fortunately, he had in his court the younger
brother of Kaopulupulu, whose jealousy of the high-priest of Oahu was
notorious, and with him ere the day was done, had Kahekili speech and
agreement.
The days went by and Kahahana began to lose his uneasy mind. Kahekili
had taken his rebuff much more readily than of wont, and there was no
sign of hostile preparation or intent. Only Kaopulupulu persisted in
urging the king to beware and remain ready for a visit from Kahekili’s
flotilla of canoes at any hour of the day or night.
One day, nearly two weeks from the time the cession of Kualoa had been
rejected, he was on his way to the royal _lanai_ to urge a doubling of
the coast watch, when, greatly to his surprise, as he went in to stand
before the king, there went out Nanoa, his brother, who had come with
messages from Kahekili. Kaopulupulu liked not the look which Nanoa cast
upon him as he passed, but shame withheld him from mistrusting so close
a kinsman, and he replied heartily to the other’s formal salutation.
But when he stood before the king, Kahahana looked blackly on him and
gave him no such greeting as had been customary. Kaopulupulu misdoubted
in his heart that some evil was afoot, and presently learned from the
king that he was adjudged a traitor to Oahu. Had he not, so the charge
ran, conspired to aid Kahekili to the overlordship of Oahu? But for the
desire of the Maui king to be true to his old roofmate and kinsman by
marriage, the treachery had remained unrevealed.
Kaopulupulu remained awhile silent, sorrowful, and in bitter anger
before the king. “I scorn,” he said, “to defend myself with words--I
whose deeds ought to speak louder than the calumnies of Kahekili. Yet
is he laboring to overcome with guile those whom he fears to meet with
the war-spear. Beware of Kahekili, but if ye will heed me not, suffer
me to depart with my only son to Waianae to till my fields. Time shall
be the judge between us.”
The king, who was scarce prepared as yet to take upon himself the
risk of an arrest, did not withhold his permission, and presently
Kaopulupulu might have been seen with bowed head, led by the hand
of his only son, and followed at a little distance by his amazed
retainers, wending his way slowly to Waianae. Hither he arrived just as
the rising moon had kindled its beacon on the mountain-tops.
That very night, in spite of his dejection, he tattooed himself and all
his followers upon the knee, in token of loyalty to Kahahana.
“_He eha nui no, he nui loa lakuu aloha!_”[A] said the faithful slaves
as the sharp instrument of fish-bones pierced their skin.
[A] “Great is the pain, but greater still is our love.”
“Soon, I foresee,” answered Kaopulupulu, “you will tattoo yourselves
not for the living, but for the dead.” And all the household uttered
their loud “_auwe_.”
And now followed lamentable days for Oahu. The king, distrusted and
distrustful, held few parleys with his chiefs: more and more careless
grew the guards along the coast; fewer and fewer the appeals to the
gods. In the _heiaus_ the shrines stood neglected. A few tattered
shreds of clothing washed by the rain and bleached by the sun were all
that was left of their once gaudy array of idols, while piles of broken
calabashes and cocoanut shells, with rotten wreaths of flowers and
putrid masses of meat, formed unsightly heaps in the sacred enclosures.
Men’s hearts seemed to have gone to sleep and even the old warriors
allowed their spears to rust, and to dream only of the past.
Into the midst of this doleful time came the news that Kahekili was
preparing to muster his canoes on the beach of Lahaina, but Kahahana,
so far from allowing the tidings to reveal to his heart the craft
of the Maui chief and his emissary, kept still within his bosom the
poisoned shaft and muttered:
“Kaopulupulu predicted this. Surely the priest is skillful to ensure
the fulfillment of his own predictions.”
So his anger waxed against the aged priest and he sent canoes with his
_ilamoku_, or executioner, to Waianae. In his frenzy it seemed better
to slay one who had been his friend than to sit still and await the
oncoming of Kahekili.
Kaopulupulu and his son were fishing along the shore when the boat hove
in sight, and, as it were, by the afflatus of the gods, the priest knew
that it was an errand of blood.
“Farewell,” he said, “my son, blood of my blood. A little while we
shall wander apart, but Lono will see and hear, and will not allow
death to sever us long, since we are true kin!”
Nevertheless, he went courteously to the landing-place to meet the men
and asked them whence they had come. But they answered roughly and
straightway seized the boy, who cried piteously for his life. Out into
the canoe they bore him, and then hurled him headlong into the water
between the boat and the reef. When he tried to swim they smote him on
the head with the paddles and with clubs, till the waves were reddened
with blood and the sharks scented their prey afar. Then upon the shore
stood Kaopulupulu, his white hair streaming in the breeze, and cried
aloud under the inspiration of the gods:
“It is better to sleep in the sea, for from the sea comes the means of
life.”
Men mused much upon this saying in the aftertime, but understood it
not till many years had flown. The enemies of Kaopulupulu said: “It
is a proof of his conspiracy with Kahekili,” but all men afterwards
interpreted it of the coming of Kamehameha, the overlord of the Eight
Islands, from the sea.
Kahahana was, however, not content with the death of the son, and when
he had allowed Kaopulupulu some space for the torment of grief, he sent
again the death-boat for the priest.
So Kaopulupulu was brought, not all unwillingly, to Puulio, and there
in the presence of the king for whom he would willingly have died to
preserve him from the impending storm, he was slain by the club of the
_ilamoku_. All men wept to see such sacrilege committed, as the old man
stood up for his death-blow before the king. Once more the prophetic
fire glowed in his eye-sockets, and once more he cried aloud so that
all the assembly might hear:
“Farewell, my lord, O king! Alas! that I should in my death foreshadow
thine own. When the fatal club whirls behind thee, then shalt thou know
the faith of Kaopulupulu to Oahu and to thee!” A moment after he fell
face foremost and was dragged away with a hook to the temple.
* * * * *
Great is the commotion on the beach of Waikiki. The echoes of Diamond
Head are rudely awakened with the shouts of warriors. The forces of
Maui have swept over from Lahaina and have effected their landing
almost without opposition from Kahahana. The Oahu forces, undisciplined
and demoralized, are driven helter-skelter to the valleys, and Kahekili
may solace himself ere long with Kualoa, and all Koolau to boot.
Kahahana fled to the mountains around Ewa and here for nearly two years
was hidden, fed and clothed by his compassionate subjects. Then, having
learned how lovely it is to rely upon fidelity, such fidelity as he now
knew to have been that of his slandered priest, Kaopulupulu, he learned
in his turn also how bitter it is to be betrayed.
His wife’s brother, Kehuamanoha, yielded up the secret of his
hiding-place to Kahekili, and he was dragged by the order of the
conqueror from Ewa to Waikiki, to stand in the presence of his crafty
antagonist.
Thus in all points Nemesis overtook him, and when he died a sacrifice
to the gods at Waikiki, he cried out for the vengeful deities to wash
out in his blood the wretchedness of his unfaithfulness and allow him
to meet the manes of Kaopulupulu in peace.
But a man’s folly, so far as its consequences are concerned, does not
end with repentance, and heavily did Kahekili lay his yoke upon Oahu.
Men, women and children were butchered, the streams were piled high
with the dead, and ran scarlet to the sea, and one of the Maui chiefs
built a house at Lapakea with the bones of the slain.
V
KEALA
The man-eating _mu_ was in the street.
This accounted for the silence in the village. No one was in sight when
the two chiefs, Kakaua and Kapahala, met.
“Ha, Kakaua, hearest thou the news? Kahekili is dead!”
“_Auwe!_ dark the day of Maui! There will be pickings for crows, now
the eagle is gone! Methinks the ‘Lonely One’ in Kohala will soon be
looking this way again.”
“Ay, said not Kahekili to him: ‘When the black _kapa_ covers me, then
shalt thou be the _maika_-stone sweeping from Hawaii to Niihau’?”
“What say Kaeo and Kalanikapule?”
“Nay, I know not. When I left the royal enclosure they were wailing
and knocking out their teeth, and between whiles they discussed the
disposal of Kahekili’s bones.”
“Ah, Kalani had best grind them to powder and mix them with _poi_ for
the eating of the chiefs. They will need all the strength of Kahekili’s
heart to stand up against the lord of Halawa.”
“Yea,” said a newcomer, “and methinks, Kakaua, you need to eat his
liver, for I hear the man-eating _mu_ is in the street, seeking some
victim to please the gods and the dead chief therewith. The _mu_, who
is, you may know, none other than Ahi, the priest, has a special love
for you, Kakaua! Is it not so? _Aloha!_ I go a-fishing.”
Kakaua turned white under his dusky skin, and apparently concluded to
go fishing, too, for when an hour later the priest Ahi came to make a
call of honor--having destined Kakaua for the sacrifice which was to
appease the manes of the dead king--the intended victim was not to be
found, nor was his canoe.
This looked bad, for the surf was thundering upon the reef as though
the shark god himself had come to attend the obsequies of Kahekili, and
Laamaomao in his train--a big leak in his calabash, from whence poured
forth angry gusts of wind along the shore.
Meanwhile Ahi, acting the part of that unpopular functionary, the
_mu-ai-kanaka_, was parading the empty streets with horrible yells and
contortions of the body. In one hand he held a club with which to fell
his victim from behind, in the other a hook with which to drag the body
to the _heiau_. He was very angry, for he had calculated by this time
to have had the hook in the flesh of Kakaua, against whom he bore a
special grudge.
The history, as is so often the case, concerned a maiden.
Sweet Keala! ill was it for thy peace that thou wast beautiful as the
_lehua_ which is wooed by the _olokele_ in the morning sun, and ill was
it for Ahi and Kakaua that they, the one or the other, agreed not to
give thee up and seek another maiden, whereof there were many in the
Eight Islands!
Ahi was a priest and cruel, and Keala loved him not, loved neither
himself nor his vocation; but Kakaua she loved because he was a
warrior, straight as a palm-tree and smiling as the dawn. This was not
pleasant knowledge to Ahi, and he had loved the idea of personating the
man-eating _mu_, because he might thereby rid himself of his rival,
and, Kakaua away--why, surely Keala would love him.
And now Kakaua was away--if not consumed upon the altar of the gods,
assuredly eaten by the sharks outside the reef, for the surf which
boomed upon the coral rocks had cruel white teeth which must have
devoured any canoe out that night. Ahi protested to Keala that, beyond
all doubt, Kakaua had gone down to the realm of Milu to eat lizards
and butterflies and recline under ghostly trees--nevermore to revisit
the upper air. But, somehow, such is the obstinacy of womankind, Keala
loved Ahi none the more, and Kakaua none the less. Moreover, she told
the priest to his face she would rather be the bride of the sharks than
share his loathsome couch.
In his heart, however, Ahi was by no means so sure of the death of
Kakaua, and oftentimes at night he would build a fireplace on the
hearth of his hut, plant _kapa_-sticks at the corners and make a fire
by rubbing the firestick, _aulima_, on a twig of _akia_ and endeavor to
send out his soul through the smoke, to discover the whereabouts of the
man whom he feared absent even more than present.
But his visions for many nights were vague--rolling seas, surf-beaten
shores, groves of palms, slopes of lava, concourses of men, troops
preparing for battle, but no Kakaua. Each night his soul came back to
his body fruitlessly wearied.
His disappointment he revenged upon the girl whom he hoped to win. Day
by day he persecuted her with his advances, and day by day she repelled
him with the bitterest scorn. All the power of the gods he denounced
against her faithful obstinacy, but Keala refused to believe that the
_akua_ were hostile to human constancy, and bore the revilings of the
priest in patience.
But it was hard to live in the Hawaii of olden time the enemy of the
priests. The high chief Hua had ventured to oppose them, and of him it
was said in proverbs: “Rattling are the bones of Hua in the sun.” Is
it, then, to be wondered at that, week by week, the situation of Keala
became more perilous? Till one day, after Ahi had been most violent
in his protestations of love, and Keala most bitter in her repulse,
the struggle ceased with the slaughter of the maiden--on a charge,
supported by false witnesses, of having broken the _kapu_ and eaten of
the forbidden food. Like a meek lamb, and amid the tears of the people,
Keala was slain before the altar of the _heiau_, but with her dying
voice she appealed to the only goddess whose power she knew--Pele, the
mistress of the great volcano whose lava-floods ravaged the coasts of
Hawaii. Pele was a fickle deity, she knew, but surely she would avenge
the wrongs of her sex. So Keala died, faithful to Kakaua. Yet Ahi was
not happy. The people hated him, and his own heart was not at peace.
More zealous than ever in his priestly duties, he made daily offerings
to propitiate the volcano goddess, for he feared the prayer of the
dying maiden, and as the rumor of his subornation grew he feared even
more the living arm of Kakaua, to be assured of whose death he would
have given half his wealth. Again and again he projected his spirit
into space, to search for his former rival, and each time he grew
certain that Kakaua was alive and not dead.
But one night, no sooner had he made his fire, prepared and drunk his
_awa_, chanted his fire-prayer and called upon the terrible name of
Uli, than he felt his soul go out through the smoke, like an invisible
bird, over the sand plains and over the sea, till he came to a dark
mountain mass rising far above the clouds. Here he once more felt
himself touch the ground and able to look about him. Down below through
the driving mists he could see the gray shore-line and the white reef.
The locality seemed familiar to him, though he recalled not its name.
Up above was the mountain sparsely covered with _ohelo_ and with clouds
of sulphurous smoke rolling from its summit. Now he suspected his
whereabouts, and when he glanced a second time along the road he was
certain. The green water below was the bay of Hilo, the mountain was
the terrible Kilauea, where in Halemaumau, the house of everlasting
fire, the goddess Pele was wont to ride the red surges with her sisters
and tilt with lances of flaming lava. The road was the mountain-path
from Waiakea to Kapapala, and up the road, as the spirit of Ahi gazed
at the well-known landmarks, a strangely familiar figure was making
its way. A foretaste of malicious joy thrilled the disembodied spirit
and he hurriedly gained the path which the toiling wayfarer must take.
Right in the middle of the road he made the magic sign known only to
the _kahunas_, uttered the imprecation of Uli, and then, although
conscious that he was only a ghost, and invisible, withdrew to a cave
near by to watch the working of his wizardry.
Scarcely had he reached his place of concealment when he felt a strange
trembling of the earth, and a moment later, gazing out, he beheld a
sight which made him, spirit though he was, shiver like a leaf. The
traveler had almost reached the spellbound square when from the top of
the mountain there appeared the head of a tide of lava like a river
of molten lead, and on the lurid crest, as though riding upon the
surf-board, was the dreaded goddess of the crater. The tide of flame
was making its way straight along the channel of the road, and Ahi saw
with relief it would sweep by him and leave him untouched. And when the
traveler lifted his face in terror toward the oncoming death, Ahi was
happy at last, for the face was indeed the face of Kakaua. The spell
was working. His old enemy was doomed, and by the very power to whom
Keala had made her supplication.
But Ahi’s joy was short-lived and gave way to convulsive rage when he
looked again. For the terror had fled from Kakaua’s face and in its
stead was joy, and the priest following the eyes of the doomed man
looked upon the countenance of Pele, and lo! it was Pele no longer,
but Keala. And the man stretched out his arms in ecstasy for the
embrace of the goddess. Yes, Pele had, after all, hearkened to Keala’s
prayer.
Darkness came over the frustrate ghost, and presently from the smoke
of his own hearth Ahi’s spirit went out unbidden and stood in the
halls of the underworld, the abode of Milu. A great paradise stretched
out before the portals of the gloomy prison-house. There were waters
fresher and palms greener than those of Waipio, and down the mossy
rocks trickled the sparkling drops which made the stream, as though the
tears of lovers shed on earth were here distilling into the river of
the water of life. Delicious perfumes and the song of innumerable birds
filled the air.
But all this gave no pleasure to the soul of Ahi, who made fruitless
efforts not to see, when before him glided the happy shades of Kakaua
and Keala in joyous converse, and he cursed Uli and Kiiaka and all his
gods when they looked upon him and said:
“Thanks, Ahi, through thee we are alive, for we love, and thou, alas!
art dead!”
* * * * *
Ahi awoke and the ashes upon his hearth were dead and cold.
As for Ahi himself, his hair was white and his limbs palsied. He knew
that the words of Kakaua and Keala were true, and that the gods had
written down his name as dead. His heart within his breast was like
stone, and his life was gone from him like smoke. He lived thus many
years, but he gave no more offerings to Pele, for he said: “Verily, the
fires of Pele turn to sunshine, and the spells of the _kahuna_ are vain
before such love as that of Kakaua and Keala.”
VI
PELE DECLARES FOR KAMEHAMEHA
The ancient kings of Hawaii showed their wisdom and their appreciation
of the beautiful when they chose Waipio for a royal residence. There
was no other spot in the Eight Islands so blessed by nature, prodigal
as she was of her gifts from Niihau to Hawaii. A romantic valley
nearly a mile wide at the seaward entrance, enclosed on the other
sides by nearly perpendicular hills, clothed with grass, creepers and
shrubs--such was Waipio. Winding paths led upwards amid the jutting
rocks and threadlike cascades descending almost at one leap, forming
the stream below which flowed deviously among the sand-hills to the sea.
At one time, says an old legend, the stream was more sluggish than now,
but a great fish which lived off the Hamakua coast found the supply of
fresh water too scanty for his need and appealed to Kane for more. In
consequence, fresh springs were created, the bed of the river tilted up
and the requisite increase of water obligingly supplied. The great fish
is there no longer; but, if so disposed, you may still see the finger
marks of Kane on the huge stones which he hurled into the river to
raise its bed.
A hundred and eighteen years ago Waipio was still the loveliest spot
in the Paradise of the Pacific. Here the palms were tallest, the
foliage greenest, the blossoms brightest, the water coolest. And in
recognition of this fact many were the folk who here made their abode.
Along the foot of the mountains and extending up the valley as far as
the eye could reach were little groups of grass huts looking almost
as natural as the trees and mountains. Nearer the sea was part of the
patrimony of Kamehameha, and many were the evidences of the labors
in which the great chief, like a modern Cincinnatus, had indulged in
the intervals of fighting his many foes. Here were the fish ponds,
here the taro-patches, here even attempts at the construction of an
aqueduct--attempts rendered, however, futile by the lack of adequate
tools.
At the time of which we speak Kamehameha was at home, but nevertheless
not bent upon peaceful pursuits. This was at once evident from a glance
at the coral beach. Gigantic war canoes painted and pennoned lay along
the sand mile after mile. A great double pirogue, containing mounted
cannon and chests of firearms, was evidently the king’s own special
craft. There were, however, several more or less seaworthy schooners of
American build in the royal fleet.
In these Kamehameha and his army had come hurriedly back from Molokai,
whither he had gone after his great victory in Maui. The battle in the
Iao valley, known as the “damming of the waters,” had rendered him, for
the time being, master of Maui, and, after sending one ambassador to
Kauai to look out a powerful wizard and another to Oahu to interview
Kahekili, he had gone himself to Molokai to secure influence over
the high chiefess Kalola, her daughter Liliha and her granddaughter
Keopuolani. With these on his side, or under his protection, Kamehameha
knew he could appeal with every hope of success to the aristocratic
instincts of the people.
But suddenly, almost from the blue sky, a thunderbolt had fallen into
the midst of his plans. A messenger landed one morning with the news
that Keoua in Hawaii had attacked and slain Keawemauhili in a battle
near Hilo, had overrun and annexed his dominions in Puna and Kau, and
had forthwith invaded the territories of Kamehameha in Hamakua, Waipio,
and Waimea, destroying fish ponds and potato fields, and committing all
kinds of barbarities.
Such news was an imperative summons to Kamehameha to return at once to
Hawaii, and this he had done with his usual celerity. Keoua, taken by
surprise, retreated to Paauhau in Hamakua and there awaited attack. Two
bloody battles were fought, but neither side gained much advantage,
and, while Keoua fell back on Hilo, Kamehameha withdrew to Waipio,
where we now behold him, in November, 1790, getting ready for the final
struggle.
Little groups of chiefs and warriors are sitting on the beach,
polishing their weapons and talking of the prospects of the campaign.
“Kamehameha has been playing with Keoua so far,” said an old grizzled
warrior, scarred with the wounds of twenty battles. “When he begins to
fight real battles, he will win.”
“He has the favor of the gods,” said another; “he should soon make an
end of rebellion.”
“Ay,” added a third, “what chief in Hawaii aforetime has been at once
the guardian of Kaili, the war god, and the possessor of Kalaipahoa,
the poison goddess?”
“And,” said Kamanawa, “the owner of the magic conch, Kiha-pu!”
“And has had the help of the white men,” interposed Kaiana, proud of
his friendship with the _haole_ captains, with whom he made a visit to
China. “See what havoc the red-mouthed guns made in Kepaniwai!”