Back in the mountains or out upon the plains the same spirit (if
opposite in form), that under-lay America’s advancement urged a simpler
minded, deeper wrought people to gather and organize in defence of an
equally inborn prerogative. Hawaiians of old had looked traditionally
and knowingly upon Kileaua, and in the thundering, blazing elements
discerned the voice and will of Kamehameha.
Answer, they must. And whether confronted by the lone machinations of
individual schemers or threatened with annihilation underneath the
juggernaut of advancing empire, mattered not; content once roused knows
neither fear nor limit. Heeds less, Christianity.
Kaiuolani sought protection at home; there she believed her father, a
citizen and patriot, supreme.
In this however, it was as soon discovered that she had reckoned, in
one particular, at least, without her host. Sir Charles had already
been influenced by Elmsford; who, conceiving the notion of fathering an
Utopia of his own, found it quite convenient, upon Uhlrix’s withdrawal
and the shifting of fleets, to form a satisfactory coalition with the
hard-pressed Cole and his ever-urgent missionaries. Castle Banyan
had become their fortress; sheltering alike the disgruntled and the
ambitious: having thus inadvertently trapped herself, the princess for
once invoked a deliberate, if confusing expedient.
“I shall not surrender, neither disobey; but, mind you, it is a false
judgment that holds not until verified,” said she, in answer to her
father’s impatient provisioning.
“Silence, Kaiuolani. Do you forget the place?” replied Sir Charles,
sternly.
“The castle is yours, I believe, under existing conditions. Pardon me.”
“Elmsford, come here,” continued she, addressing the artist manager,
who attended cautiously, in a conveniently nearby room.
“Yes, Kaiuolani.”
“Remove me from this place.”
“Yes, Kaiuolani.”
They were not long in reaching Diamond Head; Elmsford was in her power,
and there she set up housekeeping as prisoner in a way as convincing
to him that she knew her place as it was provocative elsewhere of the
belief that she held in her hand effectively and irredeemably the
destinies of them all.
“Go publish the news, broadcast,” demanded she of Elmsford, her slave,
before Sir Charles had fairly recovered the shock.
“What news, Kaiuolani?” asked he, meekly.
“That you hold me hostage. I shall have done with this tangle, in a
jiffy.”
“And then?”
“I’ll make no promises.”
“By jove, I like you the more, for that. And, don’t forget, Elmsford is
no ‘peach.’”
“Hist! No slang, if you would serve me.”
“Yes, Kaiuolani.”
Norton published the notice, on the morrow, in the _Ware Wizzard Wise_,
under double blocked, full page headlines, and Wayntro, her employer,
in anticipation of consequences, took Elmsford’s little messenger
thence unto himself as wife. Uena-O-Zan had served again her mistress,
whom the flag of England once more saved from molestation.
The news spreading like wildfire, drove consternation into the hearts
of all Hawaii; as expected and planned by Kaiuolani. Cole and his
element believed themselves tricked into a British coup by none other
than Elmsford; Young, with better reason, conjectured it a scheme, of
Bender’s, to wreak his downfall and, in consequence, sought to heal the
breach with Cole: conceding the latter all administrative functions,
he reserving only supreme command of the army; the natives fired with
determination, and flocked to the support of Bender; who, by this time,
had implanted himself firmly as their true god and rightful deliverer.
Having successfully connived the evasion of Young and imprisonment,
upon landing at Honolulu, a short time hence, the old spirit seized
upon the ranger culprit and carried him well back into the reach of an
alluring past.
He had had his try with conventional freedom, the tribulations of
bolstered supremacy, and would thence hearken the voice of nature’s
own being; let the red blood coursing its way alone speak for glories
attained; go down into the wild and rise again by deeds more valorous:
Ihoas listened, and together they hastened with importuning a deadlier
endeavor.
“Would you sit here and see our nativity swept into the seas?” asked
Ihoas, of her father, Prince Kenlikola, in the presence of Bender, who
had accompanied her thither, to Kauai, in the hope of planning some
reasonable support, elsewhere than within his own imagination.
That these people were slow to comprehend a danger and loath to exert
themselves in defense even of an inborn right, Bender well knew;
but he also understood the secret of their complacency. Only touch
the wellsprings of patriotism and content were a thing as quickly
forgotten, the religion of a bygone should burst out again in perfect
frenzy, while for their leaders and their gods they would stand ready
to fall at the stake.
The prince started at the import of his daughter’s plea, and recalling
a former conflab with Bender pondered well the situation. The warmth
and heaviness of a tropical environment belied the energies so mildly
rising to mind. Here no intrigue had penetrated; satisfaction and
plenty reigned everywhere; the very heavens proclaimed peace, invited
their enjoyment:
“Why encourage hardship?” asked he, half-weirdly conscious.
“The gods, father. Do you forget--our ancestors?”
Kenlikola looked from one to the other of his auditors. There appeared
no likeness between Bender and those he had pictured in the galleries
of an indefinite past--yet there grew and throve a liking; others of
the court supporters, less removed by consanguinity, had done more
to disturb the slumberings of old Kamehameha. The air grew hot and
stifling. Ihoas came close. Kileaua flashed the hidden fire, and
Kenlikola bounded up a living torch:
“To war, men; the gods do lead!”
Thence there was no halting. Men that hitherto had shunned the bare
thought of conflict now sought martyrdom in the ranks. Kenlikola led
them, in the North, slowly but determinedly toward Diamond Head, the
agreed field and rendezvous, while Bender hastened into the South.
Here the whole populace stood in awe; not that they feared or regarded
Honolulu,--the fate or stress of government seldom touched even lightly
these faraway, unchanged believers,--but the wonderful forces unbosomed
within Kileaua itself portended a returning of the Messiah.
Bender knew them, and proclaimed:
“I am come to save you.”
They gathered round him, kneeling and wailing in fervent supplication.
The pressure remained heavy, and all about them the lavas crawled and
crumbled toward the seas. No man’s footing held against the awful
insecurity there experienced, and a demon lurked in every crystal
formed or pool that congealed, reflecting the crater whence it poured
out.
Hard pressed and unrelieved, the natives became alarmed and grew
more insistent. Some of Bender’s own men began to doubt. Their eyes
enlarged, and they made bold to ask:
“When shall the white man make peace with Kileaua?”
Ihoas heard them, and marvelled the outcome.
Shut within the deepest and darkest confines of the sacred old nearby
temple, Kaile, she welcomed a newly found idol and willed him place.
Her own father had sent her thither, as an inspiration and a help:
Bender fell a victim to the wiles that won him recognition, and when
pressed without he too entered the sacred chamber and there adjured
liberties that heed neither gods nor destruction.
Here no restraint hindered his own free will and called-up fancy. The
walls were thick, and rites as supreme as ancient barred every door.
Hoary priests babbled strange melodies or admonished remembrances
not of earth; and angels hovering in the mists or crowding fain
comprehension quickened the sense and dulled dispute.
The fathers had taught well Ihoas a lesson, and tradition denied her
disobedience.
“Fate sent you to me, Ihoas--an inspiration, a fitting rebuke. Let the
world rumble on; I am content; Ihoas is sanctified.”
She had placed her trust,--it seemed so very like her,--and all nature
at once responded to the parched and withered desires of restricted
womanhood. The beauties of creation unfolded within the discarded
bounds of an imagined halo--the gods willed it, and Ihoas lived,
foretasted heaven.
Outside, a whole populace begged deliverance, and the slumbering
princess at last awakened.
Bender bowed submissively before her; the fires had burned low and
there appeared no means of escape.
“Save me,” cried he, “save me.”
Ihoas looked the would-be traducer straightway in the face. He had
set himself over woman and defied man. Questioned the superiority of
wisdom, and sought to make of procreation a convenient plaything. Why
such inconsistency? The tenets of her belief made answer; the princess
had not yet learned to deny herself the saving privilege of worldly
sacrifice.
Then word came of Kaiuolani. Had a like temptation befallen their
revered one? If so, her God might with remission cleanse the heart
accordingly: Ihoas’s revealed no way so easy, or--uncertain. For grace
there must be some atonement.
All around them men and women fell prostrate, imploring the gods to
release Kaiuolani.
“Save her, Ihoas, save her,” cried they, with one accord.
Bender had become an outcast; none heeded longer his presence. Their
princess sat with downcast look. Had she, too, misjudged him? fallen
a victim to the woes of misplaced confidence? Her heart grew with
heaviness, as did the atmosphere she breathed. All the elements of
nature seemed battling against darkness. There must be some vent, an
escaping of pent up forces. Light awaited surely an awakening of the
spirit world. Should atonement of individual sin relieve universal
doubt? save the world from awful catastrophe? The angels betokened
finite gladness. Everybody seemed turning toward her; conformity
predetermined the fate of Ihoas.
Sitting there, shut in and alone,--her enticer had long ago
retired,--the glories of eternity unfolded certainly and pleasantly
within the thought wafted over by a thousand, thousand years of
unbroken, loyal condescension.
Were divinity asking too much?
Not as Ihoas saw. It seemed a pleasure to appease wrath: serve
humankind. And the grandeur of passing! The beauties of purification!
The joy of nothingness!
“My God, I am saved; there is a way; I know it now--Pele, Kamehameha,
Kileaua!”
The slumbering, grumbling, grinding earth lay inert and restless at
her feet. Ihoas looked out at the jagged, ragged cone just above. A
dull red under-glowed and paled against the black blue clouds hanging
heavily over the gaping crater, now yawning and persuading within a
finger’s reach. Only a drop, and the troubled elements had electrified
the earth and cleared the skies.
Ihoas breathed more freely, and no sound escaped her lips or thing
of any kind hindered her fleetness of foot: presently the forging
heights were scaled, without disturbing anyone or apprising them of her
intention, and she stood complacently at the brink.
Far down beneath her, perhaps a thousand feet or more, spread the
molten seas, whence danced and fretted little green and yellow wavelets
amid gusts of purplish, grayish cloudlets tumbling and vanishing into
space. Never had another sight seemed so placid or inviting; and now
that consciousness had fairly dawned everything appeared to move or
tend toward the center, where a pool of many colors rimmed up and
swirled down round endless hollows.
“How sweet to contemplate!” cried she, tiptoeing and balancing at the
highest pinnacle around.
It seemed as if she must soar away, and there came to her a winged
fairy, wearing at the brow a wreath of coral, who carried in one hand a
twig of olive.
“Come,” said he, taking her hand in his, thence leading the way toward
such happiness as Ihoas had not yet anticipated.
Only a flit, and the princess, too, had swept into the awful vacuum.
In the twinkling of an eye its thirsty elements gulped down the
tiny offering, and spitting forth a mighty wave, purging the heart
and clarifying the atmosphere, wrought a living, self-explained
transformation.
The liquid light shot high up, rending the clouds, precipitating a
calm: against the glowing heavens there stood revealed a face. Ihoas
smiled back upon a startled world: men with gray and women past
usefulness, both the young and beautiful arose from their knees and
putting darkness behind them worshipped thence the goddess they beheld.
Ihoas had risen, unveiling truth again.
There remained, among them all, only one whose withered conscience and
blind philosophy betokened some scientific explanation or begged an
unearned forgiveness. Bender skulked off, toward Diamond Head, alone
and unreclaimed; though time awaited only the paltry accident of a more
rational happening to wreak a lesser change.
American expansion bore hard and fast upon Hawaii’s fate.