HINA, THE HELEN OF HAWAII.

A STORY OF HAWAIIAN CHIVALRY IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY.

The story of the Iliad is a dramatic record of the love and hate, wrong and revenge, courage and custom, passion and superstition, of mythical Greece, and embraces in a single brilliant recital events which the historic bards of other lands, lacking the genius of Homer, have sent down the centuries in fragments. Human nature has been substantially the same in all ages, differing only in the ardor of its passions and appetites, as affected by the zone of its habitat and its peculiar physical surroundings. Hence almost every nation, barbarous and civilized, has had its Helen and its Troy, its Paris and its Agamemnon, its Hector and its demi-gods; and Hawaii is not an exception. The wrath of no dusky Achilles is made the thesis of the story of the Hawaiian abduction, but in other respects the Greek and Polynesian legends closely resemble each other in their general outlines.

The story of Hina, the Hawaiian Helen, and Kaupeepee, the Paris of the legend, takes us back to the twelfth century, near the close of the second and final era of migration from Tahiti, Samoa, and perhaps other islands of Polynesia—a period which added very considerably to the population of the group, and gave to it many new chiefs, a number of new customs, and a few new gods. That the tale may be better understood by the reader who may not be conversant with the legendary history of the Hawaiian Islands, it will be necessary to refer briefly to the political and social condition of the group at that time.

Notwithstanding the many sharply drawn and wonderfully-preserved historic legends of the Hawaiians, the early settlement of the little archipelago is shrouded in mystery. The best testimony, however, warrants the assumption that the islands were first discovered and occupied by a people who had drifted from southern Asia to the islands of the Pacific in the first or second [70]century of the Christian era, and, by migratory stages from the Fijis to Samoa and thence to Tahiti, had reached the Hawaiian group in about A.D. 550. The first discovery was doubtless the result of accident; but those who made it were able to find their way back to the place from which they started—either Tahiti or Samoa—and in due time return with augmented numbers, bearing with them to their new home pigs, fowls, dogs, and the seeds of such fruits and vegetables as they had found to be wanting there.

The little colony grew and prospered, and for nearly five hundred years had no communication with, or knowledge of, the world beyond. At the end of that time their geographical traditions had grown so faint that they spoke only of Kahiki, a place very far away, from which their ancestors came. First landing on the large island of Hawaii, they had spread over the eight habitable divisions of the group. The people were ruled by district chiefs, in fief to a supreme head on some of the islands, and on others independent, and the lines dividing the masses from the nobility were less strictly drawn than during the centuries succeeding. Wars were frequent between neighboring chiefs, and popular increase was slow; but the tabus of the chiefs and priests were not oppressive, and the people claimed and exercised a degree of personal independence unknown to them after the eleventh century.

In about A.D. 1025, or perhaps a little earlier, the people of the group were suddenly aroused from their long dream of six centuries by the arrival of a large party of adventurers from Tahiti. Their chief was Nanamaoa. Their language resembled that of the Hawaiians, and their customs and religions were not greatly at variance. They were therefore received with kindness, and in a few years their influence began to be felt throughout the group. They landed at Kohala, Hawaii, and Nanamaoa soon succeeded in establishing himself there as an influential chief. His sons secured possessions on Maui and Oahu, and on the latter island one of them—Nanakaoko—instituted the sacred place called Kukaniloko, in the district of Ewa, where it was the desire of future chiefs that their sons should be born. Even Kamehameha I., as late as 1797, sought to remove his queen thither before the birth of Liholiho, but the illness of the royal mother prevented. This became the sacred birth-place of princes, [71]as Iao, in Wailuku valley, on the island of Maui, became their tabu spot of interment.

It was at Kukaniloko that Kapawa, the son of Nanakaoko, was born. His principal seat of power was probably on Hawaii, although he retained possessions on Maui and Oahu. It was during his life that the celebrated chief and priest Paao made his appearance in the group. He came from one of the southern islands with a small party, bringing with him new gods and new modes of worship, and to him the subsequent high-priests of Hawaii traced their sacerdotal line, even down to Hevaheva, who in 1819 was the first to apply the torch to the temples in which his ancestors had so long worshipped. Paao was a statesman and warrior as well as a priest, but he preferred spiritual to temporal authority; and when Kapawa died and was buried at Iao, leaving his possessions without a competent ruler and his subjects in a state bordering upon anarchy, Paao did not assume the chieftaincy, as he manifestly might have done, but despatched messengers—if, indeed, he did not go himself—to the land of his birth, to invite to Hawaii a chief capable of restoring order.

Such a leader was found in Pilikaekae, of Samoa, who migrated to Hawaii with a goodly number of retainers, and was promptly established in the vacant sovereignty, while Paao continued in the position of high-priest. Pili extended his authority over the six districts of Hawaii; but beyond Kohala and the northern part of the island the recognition of his sovereignty was merely nominal, and internal wars and revolts were frequent.

The next arrivals of note from the southern islands were the two Paumakua families, one of which settled in Oahu and Kauai and the other in Hawaii and Maui. Whether, as averred by conflicting traditions, they arrived contemporaneously or two or three generations apart, is a question in nowise pertinent to our story. The legend is connected with the Hawaii branch alone, and the order of their coming need not, therefore, be here discussed.

The Paumakua family, which became so influential in Hawaii and Maui, arrived during the early part of the reign of Pili, in about A.D. 1090. A large party accompanied the family, and they brought with them their gods, priests, astrologers and prophets. They first landed and secured possessions in Maui; [72]but the sons and other relatives of Paumakua were brave and ambitious, and soon by conquest and marriage secured an almost sovereign footing both in Maui and Hawaii.

One of the nephews of Paumakua, Hakalanileo, who was the son of Kuheailani, as an entering wedge to further acquisitions became in some manner possessed of a strip of land along the coast in the district of Hilo, Hawaii. It was a large estate, and the owner availed himself of every opportunity to extend its boundaries and increase the number of his dependents. His wife was the beautiful Hina of Hawaiian song and daughter of the seeress Uli, who had migrated from Tahiti with some one of the several expeditions of that period—possibly with the Paumakua family, although tradition does not so state.

At that time Kamauaua, a powerful chief of the ancient native line of Nanaula, held sway over the island of Molokai. He proudly traced back his ancestry to the first migration in the sixth century, and regarded with aversion and well-founded alarm the new migratory tide which for years past had been casting upon the shores of the islands a flood of alien adventurers, whose warlike and aggressive chiefs were steadily possessing themselves of the fairest portions of the group. He had sought to form a league of native chiefs against these dangerous encroachments; but the wily invaders, with new gods to awe the masses and new customs and new traditions to charm the native nobility, had, through intermarriage and strategy rather than force, become the virtual rulers of Hawaii, Maui, Oahu, and Kauai, and he had abandoned all hope of seeing them supplanted. Molokai alone remained exclusively under native control, and its resolute old chief had from their infancy instilled into his sons a hatred of the southern spoilers and a resolution to resist their aggressions to the bitter end.

The eldest of the sons of Kamauaua was Kaupeepee. He was a warlike youth, well skilled in arms and mighty in strength and courage, and so profound was his detestation of the alien chiefs that he resolved to devote his life to such warfare as he might be able to make upon them and their subjects. With this view he relinquished his right of succession to his first brother, Keoloewa, and, gathering around him a band of warriors partaking of his desperation and courage, established a stronghold on the promontory of Haupu, on the north side of the island, between [73]Pelekunu and Waikolo. At that point, and for some miles on each side of it, the mountains hug the ocean so closely as to leave nothing between them and the surf-beaten shores but a succession of steep, narrow and rugged promontories jutting out into the sea, and separated from each other by gorge-like and gloomy little valleys gashing the hills and, like dragons, for ever swallowing and ejecting the waves that venture too near their rocky jaws.

One of the most rugged of these promontories was Haupu. It was a natural fortress, precipitously fronting the sea with a height of five hundred feet or more, and flanked on the right and left by almost perpendicular declivities rising from narrow gulches choked with vegetation and sweetening the sea with rivulets of fresh water dashing down from the mountains seamed by their sources. It was connected with the range of mountains back of it by a narrow and rising ridge, which at a point something less than a mile inland, where opposite branches of the two flanking gulches approached each other closely, was contracted to a neck of not more than fifty paces in width. The summit of the point abutting the ocean was a comparatively level plateau, or rather series of three connecting terraces, embracing in all an area of nearly a hundred acres. Surrounded on three sides by almost perpendicular walls, and accessible on the fourth only by a narrow and easily-defended ridge extending to the mountains, little engineering skill was required to render the place well-nigh impregnable.

Setting himself earnestly to the task, Kaupeepee soon transformed the promontory of Haupu into one of the strongest fortresses in all the group. He surrounded the plateau with massive stone walls overlooking the declivities, and across the narrow neck leading to the mountains raised a rocky barrier ten feet in thickness and twenty feet in height, around which aggression from without was rendered impracticable by the excavation of precipices leading to, and in vertical line with, the ends of the wall. Instead of a gate, a subterranean passage-way led under the wall, the inside entrance being covered in times of danger with a huge flat stone resting on rollers.

Although the passage was rough and in unfavorable weather attended with danger, canoes could enter the mouths of both gulches and be hauled up beyond the reach of the waves, and beyond [74]the reach of enemies as well; for above the entrances, and completely commanding them, frowned the broad battlements of Haupu, from which might be hurled hundreds of tons of rocks and other destructive missiles. With ingenuity and great labor narrow foot-paths were cut leading from the middle terrace to both gulches, some distance above their openings, and affording a means of entering and leaving the fortress by water. These paths connected with the terrace through narrow passage-ways under the walls, and a single arm could defend them against a host.

Within the walls buildings were erected capable of accommodating in an emergency two or three thousand warriors, and on the lower terrace, occupied by Kaupeepee and his household, including his confidential friends and captains, a small heiau overlooked the sea, with a priest and two or three assistants in charge. Mountain-paths led from the fortress to Kalaupapa and other productive parts of the island; and as fish could be taken in abundance, and Kaupeepee and many of his followers controlled taro and other lands in the valleys beyond, it was seldom that the stronghold was short of food, even when foraging expeditions to the neighboring islands failed.

The services of the courageous alone were accepted by Kaupeepee, and it was a wild and daring warfare that the little band waged for years against the alien chiefs and their subjects. They could put afloat a hundred war-canoes, and their operations, although usually confined to Oahu, Maui, and Hawaii, sometimes in a spirit of bravado extended to Kauai. Leaving their retreat, they hovered near the coast selected for pillage until after dark, and then landed and mercilessly used the torch and spear. This part of their work was quickly done, when they filled their canoes with the choicest plunder they could find or of which they were most in need, and before daylight made sail for Haupu. Women were sometimes the booty coveted by the buccaneers, and during their raids many a screaming beauty was seized and borne to their stronghold on Molokai, where in most instances she was so kindly treated that she soon lost all desire to be liberated. Occasionally they were followed, if the winds were unfavorable to their retreat, by hastily-equipped fleets of canoes. If they allowed themselves to be overtaken it was for the amusement of driving back their pursuers; but as a rule they escaped without [75]pursuit or punishment, leaving their victims in ignorance alike of the source and motive of the assault.

A prominent chief of Oahu, whose territory had been ravaged by Kaupeepee, traced the retiring fleet of the plunderers to the coast of Molokai, when it suddenly disappeared. He landed and paid his respects to the venerable Kamauaua, then at Kalaupapa, and craved his assistance in discovering and punishing the spoilers, who must have found shelter somewhere on the island. The old chief smiled grimly as he replied: “It is not necessary to search for your enemies. You will find them at Haupu, near the ocean. They are probably waiting for you. They do not disturb me or my people. If they have wronged you, land and punish them. You have my permission.”

The Oahu chief offered his thanks and departed. He made a partial reconnoissance of Haupu, ascertained that it was defended by but a few hundred warriors, and shortly after returned with a large fleet of canoes to capture and retain possession of the place. Arriving off the entrance to the gulches, and discovering a number of war-canoes drawn up on their steep banks, he opened the campaign by ordering their seizure. Sixty canoes filled with warriors rode the surf into the gulches, where they were met by avalanches of rocks from the walls of the fortress, which dashed the most of them in pieces. The chief was startled and horrified, and, believing the gods were raining rocks down upon his fleet, he rescued such of his warriors as were able to reach him from the wrecked canoes, and hastily departed for Oahu, not again to return.

It is said that Kamauaua watched this assault upon Haupu from the hills back of the fortress, and, in token of his pleasure at the result, sent to Kaupeepee a feather cloak, and gave him the privilege of taking fish for his warriors from one of the largest of the royal ponds on the island. He also quietly presented him with a barge, than which there were few larger in the group. It would accommodate more than a hundred warriors and their equipments, and was intended for long and rough voyages.

These barges were constructed of planks strongly corded together over a frame, and calked and pitched. They were sometimes ten or more feet in width, and were partially or wholly decked over, with a depth of hold of six or eight feet. It was in vessels of this class, and in large double canoes of equal or [76]greater burden, that distant voyages were made to and from the Hawaiian Islands during the migratory periods of the past, while the single and double canoes of smaller dimensions, hollowed from the trunks of single trees, were used in warfare, fishing, and in general inter-island communication. After the final suspension of intercourse, in the twelfth century, between the Hawaiian and Society Islands—the possible result of the disappearance of a guiding line of small islands and atolls dotting the ocean at intervals between the two groups—the barges referred to gradually went out of use with the abandonment of voyages to distant lands, and were almost unknown to the Hawaiians as early as one or two centuries ago. Their spread of sail was very considerable, but oars were also used, and the mariner shaped his course by the sun and stars, and was guided to land by the flights of birds, drifting wood, and currents of which he knew the direction.

Some of the double canoes with which the barges were supplanted were scarcely less capacious and seaworthy than the barges themselves. They were hollowed from the trunks of gigantic pines that had drifted to the islands from the northern coast of America, and when one was found years sometimes elapsed before wind and current provided a proper mate. One of the single-trunk double canoes of Kamehameha I. was one hundred and eight feet in length, and both single and double canoes of from fifty to eighty feet in length were quite common during his reign, when the native forests abounded in growths much larger than can now be found. But the native trees never furnished bodies for the larger sizes of canoes. They were the gifts of the waves, and were not unfrequently credited to the favor of the gods.

Kaupeepee was delighted with the present of the barge. It gave him one of the largest vessels in all the eight Hawaiian seas, and rendered him especially formidable in sea-encounters. He painted the sails red and the hull to the water-line, and from the masthead flung a saucy pennon to the breeze, surmounted by a kahili, which might have been mistaken for Von Tromp’s broom had it been seen a few centuries later in northern seas. He provided a large crew of oarsmen, and made a more secure landing for it in one of the openings near the fortress.

With this substantial addition to his fleet Kaupeepee enlarged [77]the scope of his depredations, and his red sails were known and feared on the neighboring coasts of Oahu and Maui. Haupu was filled with the spoil of his expeditions, and the return of a successful raiding party was usually celebrated with a season of feasting, singing, dancing, and other boisterous merriment. Nor were the gods forgotten. Frequent festivals were given to Kane, Ku, and Lono; and Moaalii, the shark-god of Molokai—the god of the fisherman and mariner—was always the earliest to be remembered. A huge image of this deity overlooked the ocean from the north wall of the heiau of Haupu, and leis of fresh flowers adorned its shoulders whenever a dangerous expedition departed or returned. On one occasion this god had guided Kaupeepee to Haupu during a dark and rainy night, and on another had capsized a number of Oahuan war-canoes that had adroitly separated him from his fleet in Pailolo channel.

At that period the islands were generally ruled by virtually independent district chiefs. They recognized a supreme head, or alii-nui, but were absolute lords of their several territories, and wars between them were frequent; but they were wars of plunder rather than of conquest, and sometimes continued in a desultory way until both parties were impoverished, when their chiefs and priests met and arranged terms of peace. But Kaupeepee was inspired by a motive higher than that of mere plunder. He hated the southern chiefs and their successors, and his assaults were confined exclusively to the territories over which they ruled. His sole aim was to inflict injury upon them, and the spoils of his expeditions were distributed among his followers. Brave, generous and sagacious, he was almost worshipped by his people, and treason, with them, was a thing unthought of.

It was indeed a wild and reckless life that Kaupeepee and his daring associates led; but it lacked neither excitement abroad nor amusement at home. On the upper terrace a kahua channel had been cut, along which they rolled the maika and threw the blunted dart. They played konane, puhenehene, and punipeki, and at surf-riding possessed experts of both sexes who might have travelled far without finding their equals. The people of the island were friendly with the dashing buccaneers, and the fairest damsels became their wives, some of them living with their husbands at Haupu, and others with their relatives in the valleys. [78]

We will now return to Hina—or Hooho, as she was sometimes called—the beautiful wife of Hakalanileo, nephew of Paumakua, of Hawaii. Hakalanileo had acquired his possessions in Hilo partly through the influence of his own family, and partly through his marriage with the sister of a consequential district chief. Later in life he had seen and become enamored of Hina, the daughter of Uli, and prevailed upon her to become his wife. The marriage was not acceptable to Uli. The position and family connections of Hakalanileo were sufficiently inviting, but Uli, who dealt in sorcery and magic, saw disaster in the proposed union and advised her daughter against it. After much persuasion, however, her consent was obtained; but she gave it with this injunction:

“Since you will have it so, take her, Hakalanileo; but guard her well, for I can see that some day the winds will snatch her from you, and you will behold her not again for many years.”

“Be it even as you say,” replied Hakalanileo, “I will take the hazard. We do not well to reject a treasure because, perchance, it may be stolen. Hina shall be my wife.”

And thus it was that Hina became the wife of the nephew of Paumakua—Hina, the most beautiful maiden in all Hawaii; Hina, whose eyes were like stars, and whose hair fell in waves below the fringes of her pau; Hina, whose name has come down to us through the centuries garlanded with song. And for years she lived happily with Hakalanileo, who loved her above all others—lived with him until she became the mother of two sons, Kana and Niheu; and then the winds snatched her away from her husband, just as Uli had predicted six years before. But the winds that bore her hence filled the sails of the great barge of Kaupeepee.

The chief of Haupu had heard of her great beauty, and resolved to see with his own eyes what the bards had exalted in song. Travelling overland from Puna in disguise, he reached her home in Hilo, and saw that the poets had done her no more than justice. She was beautiful indeed, and the wife of one to whose blood he had vowed undying enmity. Returning to Puna, where his barge lay in waiting for him, he hovered around the coast of Hilo for some days, watching for an opportunity to seize the woman whose charms had enraptured him. [79]

At last it came. After sunset, when the moon was shining, Hina repaired to the beach with her women to bathe. A signal was given—it is thought by the first wife of Hakalanileo—and not long after a light but heavily-manned canoe dashed through the surf and shot in among the bathers. The women screamed and started for the shore. Suddenly a man leaped from the canoe into the water. There was a brief struggle, a stifled scream, a sharp word of command, and a moment later Kaupeepee was again in the canoe with the nude and frantic Hina in his arms.

The boatmen knew their business—knew the necessity of quick work—and without a word the canoe was turned and driven through the surf like an arrow. The barge, with a man at every oar and the sails ready to hoist, was lying a short distance out at sea. A speck of light guided the boatmen, and the barge was soon reached. All were hastily transferred to it. The sails were spread, the men bent to their oars, the canoe was taken in tow; and, while the alarm-drum was sounding and fires were appearing on shore, Hina, wrapped in folds of soft kapa, sat sobbing in one of the apartments of the barge, and was being swiftly borne by wind and oar toward the fortress of Haupu.

The return to Haupu occupied a little more than two days. During that time Hina had mourned continually and partaken of no food. Kaupeepee had treated her with respect and kindness; but she was bewildered with the shock of her abduction, and begged to be either killed or returned to her children.

The party landed a little before daylight. The sea was rough, but the moon shone brightly, and the passage into the mouth of one of the gulches was made without accident. In the arms of Kaupeepee Hina was borne up the rock-hewn path to the fortress, and placed in apartments on the lower terrace provided with every comfort and luxury known to the nobility of the islands at that period. They had been especially prepared for her reception, and women were in attendance to wait upon her and see that she wanted for nothing, except her liberty. The large private room of the three communicating apartments—the one designed for her personal occupation—was a model of barbaric taste and comfort, and to its adornment many of the exposed districts of Oahu and Maui had unwillingly contributed. Its walls were tapestried with finely-woven and brilliantly-colored [80]mattings, dropping from festoons of shells and underlapping a carpet of hardier material covering the level ground-floor. The beams of the ceiling were also studded with shells and gaudily stained. On one side of the room was a slightly-raised platform, thickly strewn with dry sea-grass and covered with many folds of kapa. This was the kapa-moe, or sleeping-couch. Opposite was a kapa-covered lounge extending along the entire side of the room. In the middle of the apartment were spread several thicknesses of mats, which served alike for eating and lounging purposes. Light was admitted through two small openings immediately under the eaves, and from the door when its heavy curtains were looped aside. On a row of shelves in a corner of the room were carved calabashes and other curious drinking-vessels, as well as numerous ornaments of shells, ivory and feathers; and in huge calabashes under them were stores of female attire of every description then in use. In fact, nothing seemed to be wanting, and, in spite of her grief, Hina could scarcely repress a feeling of delight as she was shown into the apartment and the kukui torches displayed its luxurious appointments.

Declining food, Hina dismissed her attendants, and, throwing herself on the kapa-moe, was soon folded in the soft mantle of sleep and carried back in dreams to the home from which she had been ravished. The room was dark, and she slept for many hours. Awaking, she could not for a moment recollect where she was; but gradually the events of the preceding three days came to her, and she appreciated that she was a prisoner in the hands of Kaupeepee, of whose name and exploits she was not ignorant, and that repining would secure her neither liberation nor kind treatment. Therefore, with a sagacity to be expected of the daughter of Uli, and not without a certain feeling of pride as she reflected that her beauty had inspired Kaupeepee to abduct her, she admitted her attendants, attired herself becomingly, partook heartily of a breakfast of fish, poi, potatoes and fruits, and then sent word to Kaupeepee that she would be pleased to see him.

Kaupeepee expected a storm of tears and reproaches as he entered the room, but was agreeably disappointed. Hina rose, bowed, and waited for him to speak.

“What can I do for you?” inquired Kaupeepee in a kindly [81]tone, while a just perceptible smile of triumph swept across his handsome face.

“Liberate me,” replied Hina promptly.

“You are free to go anywhere within the walls of Haupu,” returned Kaupeepee, moving his arms around as if they embraced the whole world.

“Return me to my children,” said Hina; and at thought of them her eyes flashed with earnestness.

“Impossible!” was the firm reply.

“Then kill me!” exclaimed Hina.

“Did you ever see me before I had the pleasure of embracing you in the water on the coast of Hilo?” inquired the chief, evasively.

“No,” replied Hina, curtly.

“Well, I saw you before that time,” continued Kaupeepee—“saw you in your house; saw you among the palms; saw you by the waters. I made a journey overland from Puna to see you—to see the wife of my enemy, the most beautiful woman in Hawaii.”

Hina was but a woman, and of a race and time when the promptings of the heart were not fettered by rigid rules of propriety. Kaupeepee was the handsome and distinguished son of a king, and his words of praise were not unpleasant to her. She therefore bent her eyes to the floor and remained silent while he added:

“Hina would think little of the man who would risk his life to possess himself of such a woman, and then kill or cast her off as not worth the keeping. You are like no other woman; I am like no other man. Such companionship has the approval of the gods, and you will leave Haupu only when its walls shall have been battered down and Kaupeepee lies dead among the ruins!”

To this terrible declaration Hina could offer no reply. The fierceness of this prince of the old line of Nanaula, this enemy of her people, this scourge of the southern chiefs, alike charmed and frightened her, and with her hands to her face she sank upon the lounge of kapa beside which she had been standing.

The chief regarded her for a moment, perhaps with a feeling of pity; then, placing his hand upon her shoulder, he softly said: [82]

“You will not be unhappy in Haupu.”

“Will the bird sing that is covered with a calabash?” replied Hina, raising her eyes. “I am your prisoner.”

“Not more my prisoner than I am yours,” rejoined the chief, gallantly. “Therefore, as fellow-prisoners, let us make the best of walls that shut out no sunshine, and of gates that are a bar only against intrusion.”

“How brave, and yet how gentle!” mused Hina, as Kaupeepee, feeling that he had said enough, turned and left the room. “How strangely pleasant are his words and voice! No one ever spoke so to me before. I could have listened longer.”

After that Hina harkened for the footsteps of Kaupeepee, and lived to forget that she was a prisoner in the fortress of Haupu. His love gently wooed her thoughts from the past and made sweet the bondage which he shared with her.

The sudden disappearance of Hina created a profound excitement among the people of that part of the coast of Hilo from which she had been abducted. The women who had been permitted to escape ran screaming to the house of Hakalanileo with their tale of woe, and soon for miles around the country was in arms. When questioned, all they could tell was that a canoe filled with armed men suddenly dashed through the surf, and their mistress was seized and borne out to sea. This was all they knew.

Canoes were suddenly equipped and sent in pursuit, but they returned before morning with the report that nothing had been seen of the abductors. Messengers were despatched to the coast settlements of Hamakua, Hilo and Puna, but they brought no intelligence of the missing woman. Uli was consulted, but her divinations failed, for the reason, as she informed the unhappy husband, that the powers that had warned her against the marriage of her daughter and foreshadowed the result could not be prevailed upon to impart any information that would interfere with the fulfilment of the prophecy. Uli, therefore, sat down in gloom to await the developments of time, and Hakalanileo started on a systematic search through the group for his lost wife. [83]

After visiting every district and almost every village on Hawaii, he proceeded with a small party of attendants to Maui, and thence to Molokai, Oahu, Kauai and Niihau, and back to Lanai and Kahoolawe; but no trace of Hina could be discovered. He was well received by the various chiefs, and assistance was freely offered and sometimes accepted; but all search was in vain, and he returned disheartened to Hawaii after an absence of more than two years.

But his first search was not his last. During the fifteen years that followed he made frequent voyages to the different islands on the same errand, and always with the same result. He offered sacrifices in the temples, made pledges to the gods, and consulted every kaula of note of whom he had knowledge; but his offerings and promises failed to secure the assistance of the unseen powers, and the kilos and astrologers could gather nothing of importance to him from their observations.

Meantime Kana and Niheu, the sons of Hina, grew to manhood and prepared to continue the search for their mother, which Hakalanileo had at last abandoned as hopeless. Again and again had their grandmother told them the story of the abduction of Hina, and as often had they vowed to devote their lives to a solution of the mystery of her fate. It was vouchsafed to Uli to see that her daughter lived, but beyond that her charms and incantations were fruitless. But when the beards of her grandsons began to grow she felt that the time was approaching when Hina’s hiding-place would be discovered, and she inspired them to become proficient in the use of arms and the arts of war. And to their assistance she brought the instruction of supernatural powers.

Niheu became endowed not only with great personal strength and courage, but with unerring instincts of strategy and all the accomplishments of a successful military leader. To Kana were given powers of a different nature. He could contract his body to the compass of an insect, and expand or extend it almost indefinitely; but he was permitted to do neither except in cases of imminent personal peril, as the faculty was rarely imparted to mortals, and in this instance was accorded by Kanaloa without the knowledge of the powers to which that deity was subject.

Finally, after a season of long and patient inquiry, it was developed to Uli that her daughter was secreted in the fortress of [84]Haupu and could be recovered only by force, as she had long been the wife of Kaupeepee and would not be surrendered peacefully. Hakalanileo regarded the development with distrust; for while at Kalaupapa, on the island of Molokai, less than three years before, word was brought to him from Kaupeepee, offering to open the fortress of Haupu to his inspection. Hence, when his sons set about raising a large force to attack that stronghold, he gave them every assistance in his power, but declined to accompany the expedition.

Before noting with greater detail the warlike preparations of Hina’s sons, let us refer briefly to the changes which the years leading them to manhood had brought to others connected with the events of this legend. Hina had been a not unhappy captive at Haupu for nearly seventeen years, during which Kaupeepee had continued his desultory assaults upon the usurping chiefs of the neighboring islands. His name had become known throughout the entire group, and several combined attacks upon Haupu had been repulsed—the last by land, led by a distinguished Maui chief, with a slaughter so great that the adjoining gulches were choked with the slain. The venerable Kamauaua had passed away, leaving the government of Molokai to his son, Keoloewa, who had married Nuakea, daughter of the powerful chief, Keaunui, of Oahu, and sister of Lakona, of the strain of Maweke. Moi, another of Nuakea’s brothers, had joined Kaupeepee at Haupu, and became not only his steadfast friend and adviser, but his kaula, or prophet, as well.

Paumakua had died at a very old age, and was buried at Iao, leaving his titles, meles and possessions to his son, Haho; but the change did not seem to affect the holdings of Hakalanileo in Hilo, although it brought to his sons some support in their subsequent war with Kaupeepee. Haho was a haughty but warlike chief, and refused to recognize the titles of many of the native nobles; and, to permanently degrade them, he founded the Aha-alii, or college of chiefs, which embraced the blue-blooded of the entire group, and remained in vogue as late as the beginning of the present century. To be recognized by this college of heraldry, it was necessary for every chief to name his descent from an ancestor of unquestioned nobility; and when his rank was thus formally established, no circumstance of war or peace could deprive him of it. There were gradations of rank and [85]tabu within the Aha-alii, and all received the respect to which their rank entitled them, without regard to their worldly condition. No chief could claim a higher grade than the source from which he sprang; nor could he achieve it, although through marriage with a chiefess of higher rank he might advance his children to the grade of the mother. The Aha-alii had a language which was not understood by the common people, and which was changed whenever it became known to the makaainana, and it was their right on all occasions to wear the insignia of their rank, the feather wreath (lei-hulu), the feather cape (aha-ula), and the ivory clasp (palaoa); and their canoes might be painted red and bear a pennon. The royal color was yellow.

Although Kaupeepee was of the undoubted blood of Nanaula, and would not have been denied admission to the Aha-alii, he treated with contempt the institution of nobility founded by Haho, declaring that the blood of the founder himself was ennobled only through the thefts of his low-born grandfather. This was doubtless correct; but Kaupeepee’s hatred of the southern invaders would not allow him to be just, even to their ancestors.

Such was the condition of affairs when the sons of Hina began to prepare for their expedition against Haupu. They sent emissaries to Oahu and Maui, and were promised substantial co-operation by the leading chiefs of those islands, the most of whom had suffered from the raids of the scourge of Molokai. They collected a mighty fleet of canoes and a force of six thousand warriors. As many more were promised from Oahu and Maui, which, were Keoloewa’s permission obtained, would be landed at Molokai to operate in conjunction with the army from Hawaii.

As an attack on Haupu from the sea side was not considered practicable, even with the overwhelming force that was being organized against it, messengers were despatched to Molokai to prevail upon Keoloewa to permit a portion of the united armies to land on the south side of the island and assault the fortress from the mountain. His sympathies were with his brother, and he hesitated; but when he learned of the formidable force organizing for the reduction of Haupu, he appreciated that he was unable to successfully oppose the movement, and, with the assurance that his subjects would be neither disturbed nor despoiled [86]of their property during the conflict, and that the invading armies would be withdrawn from the island at the end of the campaign against Haupu, he consented to the landing. Had he known the real motive of the assault he would have advised his brother to surrender his fair prisoner and save both from possible ruin; but, conceiving that Kaupeepee’s depredations had become unendurable, and that the chiefs of the great islands had at length united to crush him, for his own safety he felt compelled to leave him to his fate.

This resolution accorded with the advice of Kaupeepee. Many days before his faithful kaula had told him of the approaching invasion, of the combination of chiefs against him, and the doubtful result of the struggle; and before the messengers reached his brother he had gone to and advised him to offer no opposition to the landing of his enemies on the island. “Opposition would be useless,” argued Kaupeepee, “for my enemies are coming in great force. I have slain them and blasted their lands, and single-handed will meet the consequences. Do not embroil yourself with me, but save to our blood the possessions of our fathers.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Keoloewa; “but why not abandon Haupu and save yourself, if you are not able to hold it?”

“Never!” exclaimed Kaupeepee. “For more than twenty years its walls have stood between me and my enemies, and I will not desert them now. I have a thousand brave men who will triumph or die with me. Should Haupu be taken, go and count the corpses around its walls, and you will not blush to see how a son of Kamauaua died!”

“So let the will of the gods be done!” replied the brother. “But we may not meet again.”

“True,” returned Kaupeepee, with a strange smile—“true, my good brother, for my sepulchre at Haupu needs ornamenting before the mourners come.”

“In my name take anything required for your defence,” said Keoloewa, still holding the hand of his brother, as if reluctant to part with him; “my heart, if not my arm, will be with you!”

“We shall be well prepared,” were the words of Kaupeepee at parting; and before he reached the top of the pali on his return to Haupu, the messengers from Hawaii landed at Kalaupapa. [87]

With this concession from Keoloewa the arrangements for the campaign were speedily made. The main body of the united forces was to concentrate at Kaunakakai, on the north side of the island, and move under the supreme leadership of Niheu, while a large detachment, embracing the best seamen of the several quotas, was to blockade the sea-entrances to Haupu, destroy the canoes of the fortress to prevent escape or succor, and co-operate generally with the land forces. This dangerous service was entrusted to the command of Kana.

At the appointed time the Hawaiian army set sail for Molokai in a fleet of over twelve hundred canoes, many of them double, and carrying a large supply of provisions. The assistance of the gods had been invoked with many sacrifices, and the omens had been favorable. In one of the large double canoes was Uli. Her form was bent with age, and her hair, white as foam, covered her shoulders like a mantle. In youth she was noted for her stateliness and beauty; but age and care had destroyed all traces of her early comeliness, and her wrinkled face, and black eyes glistening through the rifts of her long, white hair, gave her the appearance of one who dealt with things to be feared. She was surrounded with charms and images, and before her, on a stone-bordered hearth of earth, burned a continual fire, into which she at intervals threw gums and oily mixtures, emitting clouds of incense. Her canoe followed that of the sons of Hina, with their priest and war-god, and red pennon at the masthead; and as the fleet swept out into the ocean, with thousands of oars in the waves and thousands of spears in the air, Uli rose to her feet and began a wild war-chant, which was taken up by the following hosts and borne far over the waters.

The day following a number of expeditions left various openings on the coasts of Oahu and Maui—none of them approaching the Hawaiian army in strength, but together adding an aggregate of nine hundred canoes of all sizes and about four thousand warriors to the invading force. All of them reached the landing at Kaunakakai on the day appointed for their arrival, and Niheu found himself in command of ten thousand warriors and over two thousand canoes. No such number of spears was ever before seen massed on Molokai; but the people had been assured that they would not be injured either in person or property so long as they remained peaceful, and the terms of the [88]agreement with Keoloewa were faithfully observed. Among the invaders the people found many friends and relatives, for intercourse between the islands at that time was free and frequent; and although their sympathies were with Kaupeepee, they soon came to regard the projected capture of Haupu as a great game of konane, played by agreement between two champions, during which the spectators were to remain silent and make no suggestions.

The tents of the chiefs, around which were encamped their respective followers, extended along the shore for more than two miles, while the beach for a greater distance was fringed with canoes, many of the larger painted red and bearing gaudy pennons of stout kapa. As plundering had been forbidden, provisions of dried fish, potatoes, cocoanuts, taro, and live pigs and fowls had been brought in considerable quantities in extra canoes; but as the duration of the campaign could only be surmised, rolls of kapa and matting, shell wreaths, ivory, feather capes, calabashes, mechanical tools, ornaments, and extra arms were also brought, to be fairly exchanged from time to time for such supplies as might be wanted.

Everything being in readiness for an advance upon the stronghold of Kaupeepee, a war-council of the assembled chiefs was called. Among them were several who were well informed concerning the approaches to Haupu, and the main features of the campaign were arranged without discussion. Signals and other means of communication between the two divisions having been agreed upon, the next morning a detachment of two thousand men, occupying five hundred canoes, under the command of Kana, moved around the island to blockade the entrances to Haupu, and immediately after the main army, leaving a strong reserve to guard the canoes and look after supplies, broke camp and took up its line of march across the island to the mountains back of the fortress. The trails were rough, but at sunrise the next morning the land division, stretched along the summit of the hills two miles back of Haupu, looked down and saw the fleet of Kana drawn like a broad, black line around the ocean entrances to the doomed stronghold. [89]

Meantime Kaupeepee had not been idle. Every movement of the enemy had been watched; and when word came to him that the shores of Kaunakakai were so crowded with warriors that the number could not be told, he grimly answered: “Then will our spears be less likely to miss!”

The walls of the fortress had been strengthened and replenished with missiles; large quantities of provisions had been secured, and sheds of ample space were finally erected for the collection of rain-water, should communication be interrupted with the streams in the gulches below. Before the enemy had reached positions completely cutting off retreat from the fortress, Kaupeepee had called his warriors together and thus addressed them:

“Warriors and friends!—for all, indeed, are warriors and friends in Haupu!—for years you have shared in the dangers of Kaupeepee and have never disobeyed him. Listen now to his words, and heed them well. A mighty army is about to surround Haupu by land and sea. It already blackens the shores of Kaunakakai, and will soon be thundering at our gates. The fight will be long and desperate, and may end in defeat and death to the most or all of us. I cannot order, cannot even ask you to face such peril for my sake. The gates are open. Let all leave with my good-will whose lives are precious to them. Let your acts answer at once, for the enemy is approaching and no time can be lost!”

For a moment not a warrior of the thousand present moved. All stood staring at their chief and wondering that he should doubt. Then a confused hum of voices, rising louder and louder, swelled into a united shout of “Close the gates!” and Kaupeepee was answered. And a braver answer was never given than that which came from the stout hearts and unblanched lips of the thousand fearless defenders of Haupu. The gates were closed, with not a single warrior missing, and the fortress was soon environed with its enemies.

Halting his army on the summit of the mountains overlooking Haupu, Niheu despatched a messenger to the fortress with a signal of peace, to ascertain with certainty whether Hina was a prisoner there, and, if so, to demand the surrender of the captive. The messenger returned in safety, bearing this message from Kaupeepee: “Hina is within the walls of Haupu. Come with arms in your hands and take her!” [90]

Communication was established with the fleet in front of Haupu, and Kana was advised to enter the gulches in force the next morning, destroy the canoes of the fortress, and maintain a footing there, if possible, while a strong division of the land forces would move down and draw attention to the rear defences by taking a position within attacking distance.

In pursuance of this plan, early next morning Niheu despatched a formidable force down the mountain in the rear of Haupu, with orders to menace but not to assault the defences. Arriving near the walls, a little skirmishing ensued, when the detachment took a position beyond the reach of the slingers, and began the construction of a stone wall across the ridge.

Meantime Kana’s fleet of canoes, which had been hovering nearer and nearer the walls of Haupu since daylight, with a wild battle-cry from the warriors crowding them suddenly dashed through the surf, and partially succeeded in effecting a landing in one of the gulches flanking the fortress. So rapid had been the movement, and so thoroughly had the attention of the besieged been engrossed with the diversion from the mountains, that a division of the assaulting party managed to reach the canoes of the fortress, and another to secure a lodgment among the rocks on the opposite side of the gulch, before meeting with serious opposition. The score or two of warriors left to guard the canoes of the fortress were quickly overpowered and slaughtered, and then the work of destruction began. With loose rocks and heavy stone hammers the canoes were being hastily broken in pieces, including the great war-barge of Kaupeepee, when from the walls above the destroyers was precipitated a bewildering and murderous avalanche of rocks of all sizes and heavy sections of tree-trunks. As the missiles rolled and bounded down the steep declivity, sweeping it at almost the same moment for two hundred yards or more in length, the ground trembled as with an earthquake, and the gorge was filled with a dense cloud of dust.

The thunder of the avalanche ceased, and in the awful silence that succeeded Kaupeepee, at the head of two hundred warriors, dashed down the narrow path leading from the middle terrace to finish the dreadful work with spear, knife and battle-axe. The sight was appalling, even to the chief of Haupu. The gulch was choked with the bodies of the dying and the dead. Panic-stricken, [91]those posted on the opposite hillside had abandoned their only place of safety, and perished in large numbers in attempting to reach their canoes. The few left alive and able to retreat were wildly struggling to escape seaward from the gulch in such canoes of their wrecked fleet as would still float, or by plunging desperately into the surf.

With exultant shouts Kaupeepee and his warriors sprang over their dead and dying enemies and swept down upon the unarmed and escaping remnant of the invaders. Although a considerable reserve of canoes came to their rescue from without, protected from assault from above by the presence of Kaupeepee and his party, the most of the fugitives would have been cut off but for the extraordinary efforts of Kana, who led the attacking party, but miraculously escaped unhurt. In the surf, in the deep entrance to the gulch, everywhere he moved around with his head and shoulders above the water. He assisted the canoes through the breakers, rescued exhausted and drowning swimmers, and from the bottom of the ocean reached down and gathered huge rocks, which he hurled at intervals at Kaupeepee’s warriors to keep them in check. These wonderful exploits awed the attacking party, and greater still was their astonishment when they saw the strange being finally walk through the deep waters, erect and with his head and breast exposed, and step into a canoe quite half a mile from the shore. Turning to his warriors, with these words Kaupeepee answered their looks of inquiry: “He is Kana. I have heard of him. I am glad he escaped.”

Kana returned with his shattered fleet and still worsely shattered army to Kaunakakai. As the most of his canoes had been destroyed, Kaupeepee was unable to follow the retreating enemy to sea, but, hearing the shouts of conflict above, at once mounted with his warriors to the fortress, to assist in repelling an attack on the rear wall which had been hastily begun to save, if possible, the sea party from destruction. With Kaupeepee at the front the assault was quickly repulsed, the enemy retiring in confusion behind the lines of defence from which the advance had been made.

The wounded in the gulch were despatched, six of the least injured being reserved for sacrifice, and the night following the fortress of Haupu was ablaze with savage joy. As the first-fruits of the victories of the day, the six wounded prisoners were slain [92]with clubs and laid upon the altar of the heiau as offerings to the gods, and chants of defiance were sent through the night air to the discomfited enemy beyond the walls.

These disasters did not dishearten Niheu. The canoes of the fortress had been destroyed, and that was something of a compensation for the loss of nearly two thousand of his best warriors and a considerable part of his fleet. Plans for further assaults from the sea were abandoned, and a regular siege, with a final entrance by the rear wall, was suggested and in the end agreed to by the chiefs in council.

Lines of pickets were accordingly stationed along the summits of the mountains flanking the fortress, in order to prevent the entrance into it of reinforcements or supplies, and the main body of the attacking force was moved down and placed in positions within slinging distance of the rear wall. This was not done without loss, for the wall was manned with expert slingers; but in less than a week the besiegers had advanced their main line of wooden defences within a hundred paces of the rear bulwark of the fortress and were daily gaining ground.

This movable line of assault and defence was a device as ingenious as it was effective. Timbers twenty feet in length, or corresponding with the height of the wall, were firmly corded together side by side until they stretched across the narrow summit leading to the fortress. To the top of each fourth or fifth timber was lashed a movable brace thirty feet in length, and then the wooden wall was raised into the air nearly erect, and securely held in that position by its line of supporting braces. It was a formidable-looking structure. Against it the missiles of the besieged fell harmless, and behind it the besiegers worked in safety.

Section by section and foot by foot this moving line of timber was advanced, until the warriors on the wall could almost touch it with their spears. Several desperate sorties, to destroy or prostrate it, had been made, but nothing beyond the cutting of a few of the lower fastenings had been achieved; and the defenders of Haupu, with tightened grasp of their weapons, grimly awaited the final assault, which they felt would not long be delayed. Day after day, night after night, they watched; but the wooden wall did not move, and they could only guess at what was going on behind it. [93]

Finally a night of inky darkness came—a night “as dark as the farthest confines of Po”—bringing with it a storm of wind and rain. In the midst of the storm the wooden wall began to move, but so noiselessly that the advance was not perceived by the fortress sentinels. Midnight came and went; the storm continued, and nearer and nearer to the wall of stone was crowded the wall of timber. Just as coming day began to streak the east the bases of the two walls came together, the backward inclination of both leaving them a few feet apart at their tops. Hundreds of men then laid hold of the braces, and in a moment the wooden wall was shoved over and stayed against the other.

The alarm was given within, and warriors from all parts of the enclosure sprang toward the menaced wall. But the movement of their enemies was not less prompt. Up the braces they swarmed in such numbers that the few who had succeeded in reaching the top of the wall from within were hurled from it, and after them poured a cataract of spears against which the opposing force was powerless. The huge stone was rolled back, the gate was opened, and soon the upper terrace was cleared and five thousand warriors, led by Niheu in person, were sweeping down to complete their work of slaughter.

But their victory was not to be cheaply purchased. They had slain two or three hundred on the wall and around the gate, but thrice as many more, under the desperate leadership of Kaupeepee, were stretched like a wall across the middle terrace, with a resolution to contest every pace of the ground with their lives. They might have escaped, perhaps, down the paths leading from that terrace to the gulches; but they preferred to die, as they had for years lived, in defence of Haupu.

Down the terrace swept the victorious horde in the gray dawn of the morning. Niheu vainly tried to hold his warriors in check, for he knew the main body of the fortress force was still before him, and would have advanced with prudence; but the voices of the leaders were drowned in the battle-shouts of the surging throng, which in a few minutes struck Kaupeepee’s wall of spears and battle-axes, and rolled back like a storm-wave broken against the front of Haupu. But the check was only momentary, for immediately behind the shattered column was a forest of advancing spears, and with a wild tumult of shouts and [94]clashing weapons the entire force was precipitated upon Kaupeepee’s thin but resolute lines of defence.

The slaughter was frightful; but the unequal conflict could have but one result. Kaupeepee and the fifty or less of his followers left standing were crowded, fighting step by step, into the lower terrace, and thence to the heiau, and finally to the temple as a last place of defence. There the struggle was brief. The roof of the temple was fired, and as Kaupeepee and the last of his devoted band sprang from the blazing building to die at the throats of their enemies they were struck down with their javelins in the air. A spear penetrated the breast of Kaupeepee. As a last act he poised his ihe to hurl at a helmeted chief who had just struggled to the front. The chief was Niheu. By his dress or face, which bore a resemblance to the features of Hina, Kaupeepee must have recognized him. He looked, but his arm did not move. “Not for your sake, but for hers!” exclaimed the dying warrior, dropping his weapon to the earth and falling lifeless beside it.

Not one of the defenders of Haupu escaped, but more than one-half of Niheu’s army perished in the various assaults upon the fortress. Hina was found uninjured, and, while there was great joy to her in the embrace of her sons and aged mother, she wept over the death of Kaupeepee, who with his love had made light her long imprisonment.

The body of Kaupeepee was given to Keoloewa for interment, as were also the remains of Moi, who was among the last to fall. The walls of Haupu were levelled, never to be raised again, and Hina returned to her husband in Hilo, after a separation of nearly eighteen years, thus bringing to a close one of the most romantic legends of early Hawaiian chivalry. [95]

THE ROYAL HUNCHBACK.

THE LEGEND OF KANIPAHU, THE GRANDSON OF PILI.

About the period of A.D. 1160 Kanipahu was the nominal sovereign of the island of Hawaii. He was the grandson of Pili, who near the close of the previous century came from Samoa, at the solicitation of the high-priest Paao, to assume the moiship left vacant by the death of Kapawa, whose grandfather was probably the first of the southern chiefs who came to the Hawaiian group during the important migratory movements of the eleventh and twelfth centuries.

Although the sovereignty of the entire island was claimed by the Pili family, disturbances were frequent in the time of Kanipahu, and a few of the native chiefs of the old stock of Nanaula, which held sway in the group for nearly six centuries, refused to yield allegiance to the new dynasty. To strengthen his power and placate the native chiefs and people, Kanipahu took to wife Hualani, the fifth in descent from Maweke, of the Nanaula line, and subsequently Alaikaua, who was probably of the same native strain.

The makaainana, or common people, however, seem to have been better satisfied with their new rulers than were their former chiefs who had been supplanted in authority, and it was therefore with difficulty that they could be aroused to a resistance to political conditions which imposed upon them no hardships which they had not borne under their old rulers, and no responsibilities with which they were not already familiar. And, besides, the new-comers from the south had introduced new laws, new customs and new products of the soil, as well as new gods and new forms of worship. They had brought with them the kaeke, or sacred drum, and puloulou, or inviolable tabu staff, crowned with balls of white or black kapa. They had also instituted the title of moi, or supreme sovereign, whereas the several islands before had been ruled by scores of independent chiefs, [98]each claiming and holding as large a district as he was able to defend. They had established the Aha-alii, or college of chiefs, through which the rank of every noble might find recognition, and be perpetuated in his family. They had constructed grander heiaus, or temples, and shut the populace from the observance of many of their religious ceremonies. The tabus of the chiefs and priests had been enlarged and rendered more strict, and the priesthood had become more powerful and independent. The persons of the mois and high chiefs had become more sacred, and they exercised their functions with increased display and ostentation.

These additional exactions on the part of the new rulers, however, were partially if not wholly compensated for to the laboring masses by the protection brought to them through the political change against the oppressions of their petty chiefs and land-owners; and it is therefore probable that, on the whole, their social and industrial condition was quite as tolerable under the new as under the old or native régime.

Kanipahu resided principally in Kohala, where his grandfather had taken up his abode, and constructed mansions consistent with his sovereign state. And it was there that the high-priest Paao, who brought Pili to the group, established himself and family, after first landing in Puna and erecting to his god the temple of Wahaula, the ruins of which are still seen near the village of Kahawalea. After the arrival of Pili it is probable that Paao removed with him to the more populous district of Kohala, and there remained as his high-priest and adviser. At Puuepa he erected the large heiau of Mookini, the stones for which were passed from hand-to-hand from Niulii, a distance of nine miles—a circumstance indicating the presence of a large population on Hawaii at that time. As it was one of the largest temples in the group—its walls, enclosing an irregular parallelogram, having an aggregate length of 817 feet, with a height of 20 feet, and a breadth of 8 feet at the top—a vast amount of labor must have been required to transport the material over so long and rough a road, with no appliance more effective than human muscle. But the walls are so well built that they are standing to-day, and from a secret crypt in the wall of the south side of the heiau were taken but a few years ago, and are still preserved, two finely-polished stone disks of a [99]diameter of eight or ten inches, which it is not improbable were the two strange idols which tradition says Paao brought with him over the great waters from Upolu, and which were hidden by some faithful kahu or servant of the heiau when the ancient worship of the people was abolished by the second Kamehameha in 1819.

Kanipahu was a just and considerate sovereign, and sought by every peaceful means to harmonize the conflicting interests of the chiefs and strengthen and consolidate his power. To this end, as already stated, he allied himself by marriage to the Nanaula line of chiefs, and attached to his person and household a number of prominent nobles of native lineage. The result was that for some years he ruled in peace, and race jealousies were gradually wearing away, when a circumstance occurred which suddenly terminated the reign of Kanipahu and drove him into exile.

It was a sultry afternoon, near the time of the annual feast of Lono, perhaps in 1172, that Kanipahu, after having despatched the business of the day, was reclining on a couch of mats in the cool shade of a palm-grove within the walled enclosure of the palace grounds—if, indeed, two large wooden and thatched buildings, each a hundred or more feet in length by forty in breadth, with eight or ten smaller houses among the banana growths in the rear, may be called a palace. The grounds were thickly studded with shade and fruit trees, embracing almost every variety of value found on the island. Here and there were shaded walks and vine-wreathed nooks in which rude seats had been constructed; and as the sentinels lounged lazily at the entrance, and the kahus of the king languidly administered to his wants, the scene was a picture of royal power and barbaric comfort peculiar to the Polynesian islands, but scarcely less imposing than the forms and architectural environments of the jarls and princes of northern and central Europe at that period. Each of the personal attendants of the king was of the lesser nobility, and his office was one of honor. Over the head of the drowsing sovereign the paakahili, or kahili-bearer, at brief intervals waved his tuft of painted plumes, while at a respectful distance stood the spittoon-bearer (ipakuha) and head steward (aipuupuu).

The king was suddenly aroused by a tumult at the outer [100]gate. There was a sound of angry voices mingled with a clashing of spears, and immediately after a tall chief, clad in maro, feather cape and helmet, and bearing a stout ihe, or javelin, strode toward the royal mansion, followed by a number of excited chiefs and their retainers. Reaching the palace, the chief turned and faced his clamoring pursuers with a look of defiance. To shed blood there was an offence which no one was bold or reckless enough to commit, and, after one of the number had first been despatched to the king to ascertain his pleasure, the entire party of chiefs repaired to the royal presence, leaving their weapons behind in the hands of the guards who had hurried toward the scene of disturbance.

Bowing low before the king, who had risen to a sitting posture on his couch, the chiefs waited for him to break the silence. Slowly scanning his auditors, all but one of whom he knew and trusted, Kanipahu finally fixed his eyes upon the face of the stranger and quietly said:

“Your face is strange to me. Who are you, and what brings you here?”

“Great chief, I am Kamaiole, a chief of Kau,” was the reply, “and I came to Kohala in search of my sister, Iola, who was stolen and brought here about the close of the last season of rain.”

“Have you found her?” inquired the king.

“I have found her,” replied Kamaiole, bowing his head.

“Who took your sister away from Kau?” resumed the king.

“That man,” said Kamaiole, pointing to one of the chiefs present; “at least, so I presume, since he was seen in Kau about the time of her disappearance, and I found her in his possession here.”

The chief designated was a large and well-favored young man, with a palm-tree tattooed upon each of his muscular thighs, and wearing a number of gaudy ornaments around his neck. He was an alii koa, or military chief, without possessions and in the service of the king, to whom he was distantly related. Turning toward him, Kanipahu said:

“Speak, Waikuku, and answer the words of the chief of Kau.”

Glancing savagely at Kamaiole, Waikuku bowed to the king and replied:

“It is true that Iola came with me from Kau, where I went [101]to visit the brother of my mother; but she came willingly, although I admit without the consent of Kamaiole.”

“Waikuku is of the blood of noble chiefs,” said the king in a tone of conciliation; “why not permit your sister, since it is her will, to remain with him in peace?”

“She may remain,” was Kamaiole’s grim reply.

“And well may she remain!” exclaimed Waikuku bitterly. “Iola is dead! To-day, even a few breaths past, her brutal brother found and with his own hand killed her!”

“Killed her?” repeated the king.

“Yes, killed her,” continued Waikuku; “and but that her cowardly murderer sought the protection of the royal enclosure, my spear would have tasted his blood!”

“Speak, and give good reason for this murder of the wife of Waikuku,” said the king, sternly addressing Kamaiole, “or, by great Lono! I will downward command your face!”

When a prisoner of war or malefactor was brought before an ancient Hawaiian king, if his order was “Downward the face!” the prisoner was taken away and slain at once by one of the royal executioners; but if it was “Upward the face!” his life was spared, either for complete pardon, slavery or sacrifice to the gods.

Giving little regard to the threat of the king, but burning with wrath at the insulting language of Waikuku, Kamaiole proudly answered:

“I am of the aha-alii of Hawaii. My war-canoes are red, and pennons float at their mast-tips. The blood of Nanaula is in my veins, and my ancestors were of the alii-nui—were kings here generations before Pili landed at Kohala or the Paumakuas blasted the shores of Hilo. With a rank befitting it was my purpose to mate my sister. But she secretly became the wife of a marauding puuku—possibly by force, probably by the charm of lies and the glitter of shells—and I followed and slew her, that her blood and mine might not be degraded by being mingled with that of Waikuku!”

“Puuku!” hissed Waikuku, enraged at the low rank contemptuously given him by Kamaiole, and making a hostile menace toward the speaker.

Kamaiole regarded Waikuku for a moment with a look of disdain, and then continued:

“The occupation of this Waikuku—this woman-stealer—is [102]that of war, I have been informed. He boasted that his spear would have tasted the blood of Kamaiole had he not sought the protection of the royal grounds. I came here through no fear of his arm or the spears of his friends, but to explain to the king why I had shed blood within sight of the royal hale. But since he talks so bravely of blood and spears, I challenge him to make good his words with me beyond the palace walls. The matter is solely between us. I am prepared to answer to him in words of combat for what I have done to-day. Or if, as I suspect, he lacks the courage to give his warlike training a test so public, I will ward a spear with such of his friends, one by one, as may feel disposed to make his grievance theirs.”

The chiefs looked at each other in amazement at the broad challenge of Kamaiole, and the king seemed to be scarcely less astounded. But the proposal could not be deemed either unfair or unusual, since, according to the usage of the time, Kamaiole was answerable to Waikuku for the death of Iola.

The stinging remarks of the dauntless Kau chief left to Waikuku no pretext or excuse for declining the challenge, and the king somewhat reluctantly consented to a settlement of the matter by the arbitrament of single combat, with such weapons as might be mutually agreed upon.

Among the members of the royal household who witnessed this remarkable interview with the king was a chief of the old native line called Nanoa. Admiring the cool courage of Kamaiole, and feeling for him something of a sympathy of lineage, he proffered to stand his friend and adviser in the forthcoming encounter; and the arrangements finally made were that the hostile parties were to meet just at sunset in a grove immediately back of the palace enclosure. They were to be armed each with two spears and a javelin. The spears were first to be used when the combatants approached within twenty paces of each other. These being thrown without ending the battle, the parties were to advance to close encounter with their javelins, with the discretion of either throwing or retaining them in hand. No other weapons were to be used, and the conditions of the meeting were such that the king, who proposed to be present, did not deem it probable that there would be loss of life, especially as he had resolved to put an end to the combat with the first wound received by either. [103]

Promptly at the time appointed the principals were on the ground. The attendants of Kamaiole were nowhere to be seen. By his orders they had quietly left the village two hours before, and the only friend at his side was Nanoa. He had thrown aside his cloak and helmet, and stood stern and motionless at the place assigned him, with a spear in his right hand, and another, with a javelin, at his feet. With limbs and shoulders bare, and beard and hair black as midnight veiling his neck, Kamaiole leaned upon his spear a picture of barbaric strength and courage.

Thirty paces in front of Kamaiole stood Waikuku, similarly armed and clad, but less calm than his adversary. Around him were a score or more of high chiefs, some rallying and others advising him; but he remained gloomily silent, nervously awaiting the arrival of the king and the word for action.

In a few minutes Kanipahu, accompanied by a number of armed attendants, arrived and took a seat prepared for him at a point about equally distant from the two combatants. It being announced that everything was in readiness, the king signaled the word to be given, and the hostile chiefs, advancing five paces each, were in a moment balancing their long spears for flight. The spear of Waikuku first shot through the air in a line direct for his adversary’s breast; but the latter adroitly turned it from its course with a touch from his own weapon, which he in turn launched at Waikuku without effect. The second spears were thrown to the injury of neither, when they grasped their javelins and slowly and warily began to advance. It was an exciting moment. As each had gripped his weapon with both hands, it was apparent that neither ihe would be thrown, and a hand-to-hand struggle was inevitable.

The king drew nearer to obtain a better view of the closing conflict, and the spectators eagerly watched every movement of the advancing chiefs. Approaching within striking distance—the javelins being about six feet in length—a few feints were made, and Waikuku ventured a desperate thrust at the breast of his opponent. The movement was evidently expected, perhaps invited, for like a flash the point of the ihe was thrown into the air, and the next moment Waikuku received a thrust through the side. He fell, javelin in hand, and Kamaiole was lifting his weapon to strike his prostrate enemy to the heart when “Stop!” came the command of the king. [104]

Heedless of the royal order, or too greatly excited to be able to restrain his hand, Kamaiole savagely drove his javelin into the breast of Waikuku, inflicting a death-wound.

“Downward the face!” thundered the king, exasperated at Kamaiole’s apparent defiance of his order.

The chiefs began to move forward to seize or slay the offender. Knowing that his death had been decreed, Kamaiole recklessly poised his ihe, red with the life-blood of Waikuku, and with a wild cry of “Yes, downward the face!” hurled it at the heart of Kanipahu.

With exclamations of rage and horror the spectators sprang toward Kamaiole, the most of them dropping their unwieldy spears and grasping their pahoas, or daggers of ivory or hardened wood, as they advanced.

For an instant Kamaiole hesitated whether to defend himself to the death with the javelin of the dying chief, or take the almost equally desperate chances of escape by breaking through the lines of his encircling enemies. He chose the latter, and, grasping the javelin, started toward the king, with the view of drawing his assailants in that direction. This object being accomplished, he suddenly turned to the right, and charged and made an opening through the throng at a point that seemed to be the weakest. As he flew past the yielding line he miraculously escaped the spear and knife thrusts aimed at him, and succeeded in putting himself beyond the reach of spear and sling before real pursuit was made.

The javelin hurled at the king was received in the shoulder of a faithful attendant who had opportunely thrown himself in front of his royal master; and so rapid and confusing were the movements following that Kanipahu had scarcely recovered from his consternation at the bold assault upon his life before he learned that Kamaiole had escaped. Giving orders for a vigorous pursuit of the fugitive, the king walked to the body of Waikuku, and, discovering that life was extinct, directed its respectful removal, and then proceeded sadly to the royal mansion.

Kamaiole was not overtaken. He was strong and fleet of foot, and, as darkness soon intervened in his favor, he was able to elude his pursuers. He reached the coast in safety, and, boarding a canoe awaiting him in charge of his attendants, set sail for Kau. This provision for a hasty flight from Kohala renders it [105]certain that Kamaiole meditated desperate work on landing there, and the relation of his subsequent exploits has shown how successfully he performed it.

Kamaiole supposed he had killed his sister, and Waikuku, who had seen her just before his unfortunate encounter, thought she had but a few minutes to live; but the wounds inflicted did not prove fatal, and Iola finally recovered and became the mother of a daughter to her dead husband. Tradition attributes her recovery to the especial prayers of the high-priest, but careful nursing and a good constitution were probably the saving means, assisted by the fortunate escape of the vital organs from serious injury.

Returning to Kau, Kamaiole began to prepare for war at once, not doubting that Kanipahu, defied and assaulted at the very gates of the royal mansion, would feel it his duty to bring him to submission. Sending emissaries through the several districts, he appealed to the native chiefs and people to join him in a revolt against Kanipahu, for the purpose of transferring the sovereignty of the island to a ruler of the old Nanaula line, and restoring to them the simple worship of their fathers and the possessions of which they had been despoiled by the southern invaders.

The appeal was not without effect. Substantial aid was promised in Kona, Kau, Puna and Hilo, and in less than three months Kamaiole found himself at the head of an army large enough not only to protect him at Kau, which was doubtless the original purpose of the movement, but to carry the war into Kohala and effect a general revolution.

Whatever may have been the plans of Kanipahu concerning the rebellious Kau chief, he certainly seemed to be in no haste to put them in execution, for when Kamaiole arrived in Kohala at the head of his forces he was but feebly opposed. Tradition fails to account for the apathy of Kanipahu in the face of the supreme danger confronting him. All we are told is that, finding it impossible to raise an army strong enough to suppress the formidable revolt, he left his sons with a trusted friend in the valley of Waimanu, in the district of Hamakua, and sought refuge for [106]himself on the island of Molokai. Iola, fearing to meet her brother, or that he might learn that she still lived, also found an asylum with the young sons of Kanipahu in the secluded valley of Waimanu.

Thus Kamaiole assumed the sovereignty of Hawaii almost without opposition, and Kanipahu lived quietly and unknown at Kalae, on the small island of Molokai. He dressed and comported himself as a simple commoner, performing his own work, bearing his own burdens, and accepting all the hardships to which the poor and untitled were subject. He won the love of his neighbors for his kindness, and on two occasions took up arms to assist them in repelling plundering raids from Maui; and so well did he use his weapons that his humble friends were astonished, and thought he must have been trained in the arts of war, even if he was not of chiefly blood. It is well known that the chiefs, as a class, were physically larger than the masses, so much so that they claimed, and still claim, a descent distinct from that of the common people. Kanipahu was nearer seven than six feet in height, and his size was suggestive of rank; but he habitually stooped his head and shoulders, that his height might be subject to less remark, and labored more industriously than any of his neighbors in order to convince them that he was reared to toil. And in the end, as the years came and went, toil became a comfort to him, for it occupied his thoughts and gave him dreamless and refreshing slumber.

Let us now pass over a period of eighteen years from the accession of Kamaiole to the sovereignty of Hawaii. Kanipahu was still a laborer on the island of Molokai, and his sons had grown to manhood in the secluded valley of Waimanu, their rank and family ties known only to a few who could be trusted. One of these sons was Kalapana, and he had married Makea, the daughter of Iola. Her father was the dead Waikuku, and her uncle was Kamaiole, the moi of Hawaii.

Kamaiole’s reign had been eighteen years of almost continual domestic turmoil and popular dissatisfaction. He was cruel, selfish and arrogant; but he was also a cool and sagacious soldier, and his craft and courage had thus far enabled him to thwart the organization of discontent and enforce obedience to his authority. He had even succeeded in securing the allegiance of every prominent chief in the six districts of Hawaii—a political condition [107]such as had never before been achieved by any of his predecessors.

Wide-spread changes in feudatory tenures were the principal causes of internal trouble. Under the Pili dynasty the land boundaries of the native chiefs had been greatly shifted and narrowed to make room for the chiefs of the new régime. In attempting to restore the old feudal boundaries as far as possible, and adjust the new, Kamaiole had not only stirred up bitter strifes among the nobles, but had unwittingly disturbed the vassalage of the masses and thereby rendered all classes restless and distrustful.

Finally the discontent became so general among the makaainana that they appealed to the head of the Paao family, the high-priest of the kingdom, for advice and assistance. They declared that they would no longer submit to the tyranny of Kamaiole and the exactions of his favored chiefs, and demanded a new ruler. Tradition ascribes this movement almost wholly to the laboring people, but it is more than probable that the priesthood took an early if not the initiatory part in it, since the high-priest seems to have known that Kanipahu was still living, and at once despatched a messenger to Molokai, informing the exiled king that the people were ripe for rebellion, and advising him to repair to Hawaii at once and place himself at the head of the discontented thousands who would rejoice at his coming. Fearful of treachery, Kanipahu declined to make any promises to the messenger, and, in disguise, the high-priest himself proceeded to Kalae and urged the old chief to return and reassert his authority on Hawaii.

Kanipahu was profoundly moved at the words of the high-priest, and no longer doubted the sincerity and good faith of the tempting offer; but he declined to accept it, and, when urged for the reasons, rose sadly to his feet and said:

“Look at these hands, hardened and crooked with toil; look at this face, begrimed and wrinkled with exposure to the sun and rain; behold my bent head, and the unsightly hump that old age and stooping labor have placed upon my shoulders! Is this the figure of a king? No! The oo better becomes the hand of Kanipahu now than the staff of sovereignty. Here have I contentedly dwelt for many years, and here it is my will to peacefully die.” [108]

“Then are we without hope,” replied the priest, in a tone of unfeigned sadness.

“No, not without hope,” returned Kanipahu. “My sons are in the valley of Waimanu. I have heard from them many times. They are worthy of their blood. Seek out Kalapana. He is brave, manly, sagacious. Tell him that upon his shoulders Kanipahu, his father, places the burden of the war against Kamaiole, and in advance bequeaths to him all his valor may win, even the sovereignty of Hawaii.”

“You are right, great chief!” said the priest. “We are not without hope. Kalapana shall answer for his father, and from every heiau in Hawaii shall prayers be spoken for his success.”

The priest received the directions necessary to enable him to communicate with the sons of Kanipahu, and secretly returned to Hawaii to fan the smouldering fires of rebellion and prepare for the coming struggle.

Although the high-priesthood had become too firmly established in the Paao family to be changed by Kamaiole, he could not disguise his dislike for the innovations made by the southern line upon the simpler worship of his fathers, and neither confidence nor cordiality existed between the political and religious authorities. The rebellion against Kamaiole was therefore secretly but earnestly assisted by the entire priesthood, and when Kalapana raised the standard of revolt the people flocked to his support by thousands.

The rebellion was organized with extraordinary rapidity, and when Kalapana suddenly made his appearance in Kohala at the head of a large army, Kamaiole was in no condition to meet him. He hurriedly despatched his lunapais, or war-messengers, to the chiefs of Kohala, Kona, Hamakua and Hilo, commanding their prompt assistance, and summoned the priests and diviners of the heiau of Mookini to make unusual sacrifices to the gods and to bring him at once the auguries of the uprising. But the chiefs responded with no alacrity to his call, and the diviners informed him that triumph to his arms was possible only in Kona. Kamaiole therefore abandoned Kohala, and, with such force as he was able to assemble, fell back into North Kona, where the quotas of warriors from the neighboring districts were ordered to join him.

Amidst great popular enthusiasm Kalapana marched into [109]Northern Kohala without opposition, and took possession of the royal mansion from which his father had been driven into exile eighteen years before. Kanipahu had not overestimated the capacity of his son. By instinct he was a soldier, and from the moment that he appeared at the head of his army the chiefs who had been rallied to his support by the priesthood saw that the quiet and dreamy recluse of Waimanu was made to command; and their enthusiasm in his cause, which was soon shared by the people, made easy his way to victory.

Learning that Kamaiole had fallen back into Kona, Kalapana resolved to follow him without delay, and, if possible, bring him to battle before reinforcements could reach him from the south. The auguries were more than favorable. They were not even ambiguous. They expressly declared that Kamaiole would be killed in Kona. It was, therefore, with confidence and enthusiasm that Kalapana and his steadily increasing army started on their march for the adjoining district of Kona.

Meantime Kamaiole was not inactive. He had succeeded in gathering a force of eight thousand men, and, learning that Kalapana was advancing from Kohala, resolved to give him battle at a place called Anaehoomalu, not far from the northern line of Kona. The point was selected for its strategical advantages, and there Kamaiole, doubtful of the result—for he could see that the tide had set in against him—determined to end the struggle.

There was but a two days’ march between the hostile camps, and Kalapana pushed forward with cautious haste. The priests and kaulas had promised him success, and the most influential chiefs of Hamakua and Kohala were at his side. He had brought with him from Waimanu, where it had been secreted for eighteen years, the war-god of Pili, which had been redecorated, and was borne in front of him in charge of the high-priest. And with him, to share his fate, went his young wife, Makea, to care for him if wounded, to fight by his side, perhaps, should the tide of battle turn against him; for at that time, and later, the more courageous of the wives and daughters of the chiefs not unfrequently, in emergencies, took an active part in the field.

On the morning of the third day after Kalapana’s departure from Kohala the two armies confronted each other, and Kalapana immediately organized his forces for battle. Kamaiole saw that he was outnumbered, and resolved to await the attack behind [110]his defences. In the face of the great odds against him in numbers he was by no means hopeful; and, besides, the auguries were unsatisfactory, and three times the night before he had heard the scream of the alae, the bird of evil omen. But no feeling of fear affected him. Filled with gloomy courage, he cheered his warriors with promises of victory, and, armed with a javelin and heavy laau-palau, or rude halberd, placed himself at the most exposed point of his defences and awaited the attack.

The battle opened, and with a wild rush a heavy division of Kalapana’s forces, armed with spears, clubs, and stone axes, was hurled against the rough stone wall, four or five feet in height, behind which the enemy found partial protection. The wall was leveled in places, and desperate hand-to-hand conflicts followed, but the assault was finally repulsed. Rallied and reinforced, a second charge was made, but with no better success. The loss of life was great, and the result began to look doubtful.

But Kalapana was not discouraged by these costly failures. Withdrawing and strengthening the attacking division, and announcing that he would lead the next assault in person, he ordered an attack in the rear of the enemy by his entire reserve. This involved a rapid march of two or three miles, and the passage of a deep ravine which Kamaiole relied upon as a complete defence of his right flank. While this movement was being executed Kalapana kept the enemy employed with heavy lines of skirmishers and frequent menaces of more decided assault.

For more than an hour this desultory fighting continued, Kalapana impatiently watching for the appearance of his flanking column on the hill above the enemy. At length he discovered the first of its advancing spears, and a few minutes later the entire body came into view and began to pour down the slope. The final assault in front was then ordered, Kalapana taking command in person.

The sudden attack in the rear carried consternation to Kamaiole’s warriors; but their undaunted leader coolly and resolutely prepared for the worst. Hastily taking from the front defences such spears as could be spared, he summoned the entire reserve, and with the united force sprang like a lion to meet the attack from the hill. It came like an avalanche and could not be stayed. The struggle was desperate. As his warriors fell on every side of him, Kamaiole moved like a tower of destruction [111]through the conflict. He seemed to bear a charmed life, and men fell like grass before the sweep of his laau-palau.

Suddenly an old man of large mould, with head bent and long, white hair and beard sweeping his breast and stooping shoulders, stepped in front of Kamaiole, and with a heavy spear-pointed club calmly but dexterously warded a blow of the terrible laau-palau aimed at his head, and, answering quick as thought, felled the royal warrior to the earth like a forest tree. Around and over the body of the fallen chief a desperate struggle ensued. But it was of short duration. Under the command of Kalapana the front defences had been carried, and such of the royal army as had escaped slaughter were soon wildly leaping over the walls and retreating in confusion in all directions.

Pressing toward the rear at the head of his victorious warriors, Kalapana was attracted to the fierce hand-to-hand conflict taking place over the body of Kamaiole. Without stopping to inquire the cause, he promptly plunged into the thickest of the combat, backed by a few resolute followers, and speedily relieved the old white-haired warrior from a struggle which was taxing his strength to the utmost. This was the last stand made by the enemy in a body; what remained of the battle was a merciless massacre of the wounded, and the capture and retention alive of a few prisoners for sacrifice.

Resting for a moment and taking a survey of the field, Kalapana’s eyes fell upon the old warrior. With one foot upon the breast of Kamaiole, he was leaning upon his war-club and scanning the face of Kalapana. His ponderous weapon still dripped with gore, and his wrinkled face was splashed with the blood of his enemies.

“Where is Kamaiole?” suddenly inquired Kalapana, grasping his weapon, as if his work of death had not yet been finished. “Where is Kamaiole?” he repeated to those around him. “Who has seen him?”

“Here is Kamaiole,” replied the old warrior, pointing with bloody finger to the face of the dying king.

Kalapana abruptly turned, and for a moment gazed in silence upon the face of his fallen enemy. Although wounded to the death, Kamaiole was still living, and his eyes showed that he was conscious of what was transpiring around him.

“By whose hand did he fall?” inquired Kalapana. [112]

“By mine,” briefly answered the old man.

“And who are you?” continued Kalapana, with something of a feeling of awe, “who have thus come unsummoned, in the guise of a god from our sacred temples, to strike for the son of Kanipahu?”

The old man slowly raised his head, and, brushing back the white hairs from his face, was about to speak, when the high-priest, with kahus bearing the war-god of Kalapana, approached to greet his victorious chief. Recognizing the venerable warrior, the astounded high-priest dropped on his knees before him, exclaiming, “Kanipahu! Kanipahu!”

Almost in a dream, Kalapana, making himself known, embraced his father, whom he had not seen for eighteen years, and then respectfully chided him for coming secretly from Molokai and joining the army as a common warrior, when his rank and abilities entitled him to supreme command.

The old chief smiled sadly as he replied:

“The purpose of my coming has been accomplished. With my own hand I have answered in blood to the treachery of Kamaiole, and paid him for the hump he has placed upon my shoulders. I shall return to Molokai, and there the old hunchback will spend his few remaining days in peace.”

These words were heard and doubtless understood by Kamaiole, for he closed his eyes, and a smile of defiance played for a moment about his lips.

Just then Makea joined her husband, and was overjoyed to find him victorious and unhurt. With the first lull of battle she had started in search of him with a calabash of water, and to reach him had been compelled to pick her way through ghastly heaps of dead. At the sound of her voice, sweetly replacing the din of battle, Kamaiole opened his eyes and fixed his gaze upon her face. Finally his lips moved as if he would speak. Instinctively she approached the dying chief, and, kneeling, poured into his open mouth a few swallows of water.

Kalapana turned and smiled at Makea’s humanity, unusual on barbarous battle-fields. A grateful look came into the eyes of Kamaiole, and with a questioning glance he faintly syllabled “Iola!” the name of his sister, and the mother of Makea, whom she closely resembled. Kalapana caught the word, and, understanding its meaning, in a tone not far from kind replied: [113]

“No, not Iola, your sister, whom you failed to kill, but Makea, her daughter, who is Kalapana’s wife.”

Kamaiole convulsively raised his head and arms—whether in a spirit of rage or conciliation will never be known—and then dropped back dead.

The remainder of the story may be briefly told. In disregard of all persuasion, Kanipahu returned at once to Molokai, where he lived and died in obscurity, earning his own living and assuming no rank.

Kalapana was anointed king of Hawaii on his return to Kohala, and a hundred prisoners were sacrificed to the gods at Mookini. His reign was conciliatory and peaceful, and with Makea, whose full name was Makeamalamaihanae, he became the ancestor of Kamehameha the Great. [115]

THE TRIPLE MARRIAGE OF LAA-MAI-KAHIKI.

THE LEGENDS OF MOIKEHA AND THE ARGONAUTS OF THE ELEVENTH AND TWELFTH CENTURIES.

Tradition abounds in bold outlines, here and there interspersed with curious details, of the many prominent expeditions to the Hawaiian Islands, from the beginning of the eleventh to the latter part of the twelfth centuries, of adventurous Tahitian, Samoan and Georgian chiefs. Learning of the existence and approximate location of the group, and perhaps guided to an extent by intervening islands and atolls that have since disappeared, they came with large fleets of barges and double canoes, bearing their families and attendants, their priests, astrologers and musicians, and by degrees possessed themselves or their immediate descendants with the fairest portions of the little archipelago. For a century or more bitter feuds and frequent wars followed; but in the end the invaders and the invaded, both of the same Polynesian race, became assimilated through concession, intermarriage and fundamental identity of religious cult, and thenceforth in a united and homogeneous stream flowed down the years. The genealogies of the prominent chiefs and priests were alone preserved; and while, in after-generations, some of them traced their lines of rank to the native stock of Nanaula, and others to the chiefs of the second migratory influx from the south, the ruling families of the entire group had become so united in blood by intermarriage that it was difficult to find a chief of distinction who could not trace his lineage back to both.

But during the migratory period referred to, especially marked by the coming of Nanamaoa, Pili, Paao and the Oahu and Maui Paumakuas, the Hawaiian group was not the only scene of foreign adventure among the central islands of the Pacific. The native chiefs of Hawaii, whose ancestors had reached the group more [118]than five hundred years before, were quite as adventurous and skilled in navigation as their southern invaders; and thus while the latter, continually augmented in numbers by fresh arrivals, were steadily possessing themselves of the lands and governing forces of the Hawaiian Islands, a few resolute chiefs of the old line, either in a spirit of retaliation or because the way had been pointed out, boldly spread their sails for the abandoned homes of their aggressors, and by conquest or other means acquired lands and influence in the distant islands of the south.

The mooolelo about to be related embraces the romantic story of one of these expeditions of native Hawaiian chiefs to the southern islands, and presents an interesting picture of the manners, customs and aspirations of the mid-Pacific Argonauts of that period.

Somewhere about the year A.D. 1040 Maweke, a native chief of the line of Nanaula—the first of the family that is brought prominently to view in the chronology of the second influx—was the alii-nui, or nominal sovereign, of the island of Oahu. He had three sons—Mulielealii, Keaunui and Kalehenui. On the death of Maweke, the eldest son, Mulielealii, acceded to the title of alii-nui, occupying the western side of the island. Kalehenui was given possessions at Koolau, and Keaunui was established in the district of Ewa. The latter became the ancestor of a line of powerful chiefs in that district, and is credited with having cut or opened the navigable channel near the Puuloa salt-works, by which the estuary now known as Pearl River, not far from Honolulu, was rendered accessible to navigation. No further reference need here be made to this branch of the family beyond the remark that Keaunui became the father of Lakona, and also of Nuakea, the wife of Keoloewa, King of Molokai, and of the prophet Moi, who fell with Kaupeepee in defence of the fortress of Haupu, as related in the legend of “Hina, the Helen of Hawaii.”

Mulielealii had three sons—Kumuhonua, Olopana and Moikeha—and one daughter, named Hainakolo. As the eldest son and successor of his father, Kumuhonua in time acceded to the patrimonial estates and titles; but the younger brothers, not content, as they grew to manhood, with the small allotments which must necessarily have been accorded them, concluded to seek for ampler and more inviting possessions elsewhere. [119]

The Paumakua family occupied a large part of the eastern side of the island, and, although they were of the stock of the second influx, their relations with the native chiefs and people seem to have been peaceful and satisfactory. Paumakua, who first appeared in native annals two generations before the time of Olopana and his brothers, either as an immigrant from one of the southern islands or the son or grandson of a chief of recent arrival, was one of the most restless and dashing of the prominent leaders of that period. The legends of the time glow with stories of his marvellous exploits and adventures in foreign lands, and the friendly feeling entertained for his immediate successors was doubtless due in a great measure to the respect established for them through his rank and prowess.

It is claimed by tradition that Paumakua visited all the foreign lands then known to the Hawaiians, and brought back with him many things that were strange. From one of his voyages he returned with two white priests, Keakea and Maliu, from whom several ecclesiastical families subsequently claimed descent and authority. At another time he brought back Malela, a noted prophet and sorcerer, and three other persons of a strange race, one of whom was a woman. Tradition somewhat minutely describes them as “foreigners of large stature, bright, staring, roguish eyes, and reddish faces.”

As the voyages of this adventurous chief were sometimes of many months’ duration, and he is said to have prosecuted his researches in almost every direction, it is not impossible that the foreigners with “roguish eyes and reddish faces” were aborigines of North America. But, leaving this to conjecture, tradition permits no doubt that Paumakua was a skilful and fearless explorer, and through his enterprise acquired renown for himself and respect for his descendants, one of whom is about to be presented to the reader.

As already stated, the younger sons of Mulielealii, Olopana and Moikeha, not content with their prospects in Oahu, resolved to seek fame and fortune elsewhere. Both were unmarried, but, through some circumstance or for some purpose not mentioned by tradition, Moikeha had adopted a young son of Ahukai, the great-grandson and successor of Paumakua. The name of the boy was Laa, or Laa-mai-kahiki, to which it was subsequently extended. The child-chief could not have been without political [120]prospects, for he is referred to in the chants as “Chief of Kapaahu and Lord of Nualaka.” Although the custom was common then, as now, among Hawaiians of every rank and condition, of exchanging and adopting children, the adoption of so promising a scion of the Paumakua line by a grandson of Maweke must have been the result of some extraordinary compact, all reference to which has disappeared from tradition.

Taking leave of their relatives on Oahu, Olopana and Moikeha, with a considerable number of attendants, embarked for the island of Hawaii, and established themselves at once in the beautiful valley of Waipio, in the district of Hamakua. What chief, if any, they found in possession there is not stated; but it was not long before the valley was ruled by Olopana, with Moikeha as his principal captain and adviser. The young chief Laa accompanied his foster-father to Waipio, and there Moikeha began to instruct him in the manly accomplishments for which in after-years he became distinguished.

To strengthen his rule and protect himself against the encroachments of neighboring chiefs, Olopana married Luukia, granddaughter of Hikapaloa, chief of Kohala, and a descendant of the ancient line of Nanaula, to which Olopana himself belonged by lineage still more direct. He urged his brother to follow his example and connect himself by marriage with some one of the ruling families of Hamakua. Such an alliance could have been readily made by Moikeha, for his strain was undoubted, and in manly beauty and courtly graces he had scarcely a peer in all the group; but he declared that he had a wife in his spear and an heir in Laa, and would not create a jealousy in the family by adding to either.

But the brothers did not remain long in Waipio. A terrible hurricane, followed by storms and floods, completely devastated the valley, compelling the inhabitants to abandon their homes and seek refuge elsewhere. Moikeha had never been satisfied with Waipio, and in the midst of the ruin around them found little difficulty in persuading his brother to make a bold push for the misty and far-off land of Kahiki. Preparations for the journey were immediately made, and in five large double canoes the brothers, with Laa and a considerable body of attendants, set sail for the islands of the south. They knew the general direction, and the sun and stars guided them in their course. [121]

A prosperous wind wafted them to the Society group, and they finally landed on the island of Raiatea, and forcibly took, or in some other manner secured, possession of the district of Moaula. Olopana was accepted as sovereign of the district, and soon became a ruler of opulence and distinction. Moikeha, still his chief adviser, built a sumptuous residence and heiau for himself, called Lanikeha, or “the heavenly resting-place,” and became noted for his hospitality.

For some time—perhaps for four or five years—the brothers dwelt together in harmony, and then misunderstanding and trouble came between them—it need scarcely be said, through a woman—which drove Moikeha again to the sea and separated them for ever. A meddlesome native chief named Mua, who was jealous of the popularity of Moikeha and desirous of supplanting him in the favor of Olopana, called the attention of Luukia on several occasions to Moikeha’s affluent style of living, and intimated that his purpose was to thereby secure the friendship of influential chiefs, and in the end wrest the sovereignty of the district from his brother. Alarmed at last, she bore the tale to her husband, and at length succeeded in arousing his suspicions. A coldness toward Moikeha very naturally followed. Olopana could not help but note his brother’s increasing popularity, and one day took occasion to rebuke him for his extravagance and love of display, suggesting, at the same time, that a more modest style of living would comport better with his position. Moikeha, who had never harbored a thought that was not loyal to his brother, was profoundly grieved at these words of suspicion, and resolved to leave Raiatea at once and return to the Hawaiian Islands. Feeling that he had gone too far in thus indirectly accusing his brother of meditated treachery, Olopana endeavored to persuade him to remain; but Moikeha’s resolution could not be shaken, and he set about preparing at once for his return to the Hawaiian group.

The number of canoes manned and provisioned for the voyage is not stated; but tradition avers that the fleet was equipped under the superintendence of Moikeha’s famous prophet and astrologer, Kamahualele; and, with the priest Mookini, Laamaomao, the director of the winds, and a large party of chiefs and retainers, the expedition set sail for Hawaii, the young chief Laa being left behind with Olopana. [122]

It was one of the most imposing fleets that had ever sailed out of the harbor of Opoa. The large double canoe bearing Moikeha and his priests, gods, astrologer, principal navigator, wind director and personal attendants, was the same in which he had sailed for Kahiki. The kaulua was nearly a hundred feet in length, and afforded ample accommodations for the forty or more persons assigned to it. It was painted red, and at the masthead floated the pennon of a Polynesian alii.

Moikeha embarked with a number of distinguished companions, but the most noted was Laamaomao—a name signifying, perhaps, the sacred bluish green or wind clouds. He was the director of the winds, which were stored in his ipu, or calabash, and went forth at his bidding. He bore a close resemblance to the Æolus of the Greeks. After accompanying Moikeha to the Hawaiian Islands he took up his abode near a place called Hale-a-Lono, a well-known eminence of Kaluakoi, on the island of Molokai, and was subsequently deified and worshipped as an aumakua, or god of the winds.

With musicians and drummers to enliven the spirits of the voyagers, and favoring winds from the ipu of Laamaomao, the journey seems to have been prosperous, and no incident of note occurred until the island of Hawaii was sighted. As the green hills of Kau came to view songs and shouts of joy went up from the canoes. A voyage of over twenty-five hundred miles in open boats had tested the patience of the party, and land at last was a joyous sight to them all. Many leaped into the water and swam beside the canoes. Mookini, the high-priest, burned incense before the gods, at the same time addressing them a prayer of thanksgiving, and Kamahualele, the astrologer and poet, recited an inspiring chant in further celebration of the occasion. The chant has been preserved by tradition.

Some of the early poetic accounts of the first appearance of the islands of Hawaii above the surface of the ocean mention Hawaii, the largest of the group, as suddenly rising from the great deep and becoming a part of a row or cluster of islands “stretching to the farthest ends of Kahiki,” from which it is conjectured that, centuries back in the past, islands now no longer existing marked the way at intervals between the Society and Hawaiian groups. The other islands of the Hawaiian cluster are referred to as natural births, their parents being demi-gods [123]or distinguished chiefs. Thus, in the language of an old chant:

Kamahualele began by repeating an ancient story of the origin of the several islands of the group, and concluded his chant with these hopeful words:

Thus sang the poet, with his face toward the verdant slopes of Kau, while the canoes of the fleet gathered around him, that all might hear the words of one who read the fate of mortals in the stars.

The prediction of Kamahualele, inspired by a sudden view of the coast of Hawaii, was verified. A landing was made in the [124]district of Kau, the most southerly point of the island. There securing supplies of provisions and water, the next landing was effected at Cape Kumukahi, in the district of Puna; but a recent eruption from the crater of Kilauea, or a subterranean channel connected with it, had devastated a wide strip of country near the coast, and after a brief stay sail was made for Kohala. Landing in that district, Moikeha and his party were well received by Kaniuhi, the alii-nui and grandson of Pili, and permission to offer sacrifices in behalf of the expedition in the great heiau of Mookini was accorded the high-priest of Moikeha, whose name, by singular coincidence, was identical with that of the temple, erected by the high-priest Paao more than two generations before.

Leaving Kohala, Moikeha next touched at Hanuaula, on the island of Maui; but, without stopping to exchange courtesies with Haho, the noted moi of that division of the island, he sailed immediately for Oahu. His purpose was to visit his royal father, Mulielealii, whose residence was at Ewa; but his priest and seer so strongly protested against the visit, declaring it to be contrary to the will of the gods, that he directed his course around the northern side of the island, touching at Makapuu and Makaaoa, and then sailing directly for the island of Kauai.

On the evening of the second day after leaving Oahu, Moikeha anchored his canoes in a roadstead not far from Kapaa, Kauai, where Puna, the governing alii of the island, held his court, surrounded by the chiefs of his family and a large number of retainers. Puna was one of the most popular rulers in the group, and, strict as he may have been in the exercise of his prerogatives, was always merciful in dealing with offences thoughtlessly or ignorantly committed. He would pardon the humble laborer who might inadvertently cross his shadow or violate a tabu, but never the chief who deliberately trespassed upon his privileges or withheld a courtesy due to his rank. His disposition was naturally warlike, but as the condition of the island was peaceful, and military force was seldom required except in repelling occasional plundering raids from the other islands, he kept alive the martial spirit of his chiefs and subjects by frequent sham fights, marine drills, and the encouragement of athletic games and friendly contests at arms, in which he himself sometimes took part. Feasting and dancing usually followed these [125]warlike pastimes, and the result was that the court of Puna became somewhat noted for the chivalry of its chiefs and the splendor of its entertainments.

Puna had but one child, a daughter named Hooipo. Tradition describes her as having been, like the most of royal daughters painted by the poets, a very comely maiden. She was therefore the pride and glory of the court, and as she grew to a marriageable age her favor was sought by a number of aspiring chiefs whose rank entitled them to consideration; but, flattered by the contest for her smiles, and naturally vain of a face which the unruffled waters told her was attractive, she evinced no haste in making choice of a husband.

This tardiness or indecision was but very gently rebuked by Puna. Although one tradition gives him two daughters, Hooipo was doubtless his only child, and he was therefore indisposed to hasten an event which would probably lead to their separation. But, as time passed, the suitors of the young chiefess became so persistent, and the rivalry for her assumed so bitter and warlike an aspect, that Puna deemed it prudent for her to restore harmony among the rivals by making a choice at once. But for no one of them did she seem to entertain a decided preference, and therefore suggested that, since a choice must be made, she was willing to leave it to the arbitrament of such manly contest between the rivals as might comport with their dignity and the character of the prize at stake. Puna eagerly accepted the suggestion, as it opened the way to a selection without incurring the enmity of all but the one chosen.

But what should be the nature of the contest? Each of the rival chiefs was probably noted for his skill in some especial accomplishment, and the difficulty was in naming a trial that would seem to be just to all. Unable to decide the matter himself, Puna appealed to the high-priest, and the next day announced that his palaoa—a talisman consisting of a whale’s tooth, carved and sanctified—would be sent by a trusty messenger to the little island of Kaula; that four days thereafter the rival chiefs should, each in his own canoe, start at the same time and place from Kauai, and the one who returned with the palaoa, which the messenger would be instructed to give to the first of the contesting chiefs to land and claim it on the rocks of Kaula, should be the husband of Hooipo, and the others must remain his friends. [126]The size of the canoes was left to the discretion of the several contestants, but as no more than four assistants would be allowed to each, very large canoes, of course, would not be used. Any means of speed might be employed, including oars, paddles and sails.

The contest was admitted to be as fair as any that could be devised, and the rival chiefs declared themselves satisfied with it, and began to prepare for the race by securing suitable canoes and skilful and stalwart assistants. It promised to be an exciting contest, and the whole of Kapaa was on tiptoe to witness the start.

After a few days of preparation the messenger of Puna was despatched with the palaoa to Kaula, with instructions to place it in the hands of the first of the contesting chiefs to claim it on that island. The messenger had been gone two days, and had probably reached his destination, as the distance to be travelled was but little more than a hundred miles, and the rival chiefs had everything in readiness to bend their sails for Kaula, when Moikeha, as already stated, anchored his fleet in the evening off Kapaa.

Early next morning, with his double canoe flying the standard of his rank and otherwise becomingly dressed, Moikeha went ashore, where he was cordially received by the chiefs of the district, and in due time escorted to the sovereign mansion and presented to Puna. Without referring to his family connections, he simply announced that he was a chief from the distant land of Kahiki, and was traveling through the Hawaiian group on a tour of observation and pleasure. He wore a maro fringed with shells, a kihei or mantle of finely-woven and decorated cloth, and on his head a lei-alii of brilliant feathers, while from his neck was suspended by a cord of plaited hair a curious ornament of mother-of-pearl set in ivory. He was a handsome representative of savage manhood, and his bearing was dignified, correct and courtly.

During his audience with Puna, Moikeha met Hooipo—most likely by accident, but he was so charmed by her bright eyes that he did not leave the mansion until he found occasion to exchange a few pleasant words with her. They seemed to be mutually pleased with each other, and Moikeha accepted the invitation of the chief to consider himself his guest until the next [127]day, at the same time allowing him to send fresh provisions to his people, whose canoes had been drawn up on the beach.

A brilliant entertainment of feasting, music and dancing in honor of the distinguished stranger followed in the evening, during which Moikeha was favored with the companionship of Hooipo, and learned of the contest about to take place between the rival chiefs of Kauai to determine to whom she should be given in marriage.

Hilarity and feasting were the order of the next day and evening, for on the morning following the contesting chiefs were to start for Kaula under the eye of Puna. Their well-equipped canoes were on the beach, and their crews, drilled to work sail and oar together, were in readiness.

Morning came, and with it a large concourse of people to witness the departure of the chiefs. The canoes and their attending crews were examined, and many wagers laid on the result of the race. Finally the contesting chiefs made their appearance, followed shortly after by Puna and the most of his household, including Hooipo, who was conveyed to the beach in a manele borne on the shoulders of four stout attendants. She was attired in an embroidered pau—a short skirt of five thicknesses of thin kapa cloth reaching to the knees—and a cape or short mantle trimmed with feathers. Her hair was braided in a single strand at the back; her head and neck were adorned with leis of flowers and feathers, and her limbs were ornamented with circlets of shells and tinted seeds.

Everything being in readiness, the contending chiefs, eight in number, appeared before the alii-nui, and, bowing low, proceeded in turn to recite their kuauhaus, or genealogies, as they had been called upon to do, to show in a formal manner that all their strains were noble. As each concluded he again bowed, giving Hooipo a smile and look of confidence, and stepped back to await the signal of departure.

The last of them had given his pedigree, the terms of the contest had again been announced in form by a herald, and Puna was about to order the simultaneous launching of the canoes, when Moikeha, whose presence had not before been observed by the chiefs, suddenly presented himself before the alii-nui, and, bowing first to him and then courteously to the chiefs, said: [128]

“Great chief, as this trial seems to be free to all of noble blood, I accept the terms, and ask permission to present myself as a contestant for the prize.”

The chiefs exchanged glances of surprise, and a pleased expression lighted up the face of Hooipo, who until that moment had manifested but little interest in what was transpiring around her.

Puna hesitated a moment, and then graciously replied:

“Noble stranger, if your rank is level with the conditions, and the chiefs now ready for departure urge no objection, my consent will not be withheld.”

A hurried consultation among the chiefs showed that some of them objected; but as the stranger, with no knowledge of the coast and apparently no canoe or crew in readiness, did not seem to be a competitor to be feared, it was finally agreed that, should he be able to establish his rank, which a few of them doubted, he might be admitted to the contest.

This resolution having been communicated, Moikeha gracefully bowed his thanks, and then began to recite his genealogy. Curious to learn the strain of the courtly stranger, the chiefs pressed around him, eagerly listening to every word. He began with Wakea, away back in the past, when his ancestors were residents of other lands referred to in Hawaiian story. Giving the record of thirteen generations, he brought the connection down to Nanamaoa, the pioneer of the first migratory influx to the Hawaiian group seven hundred years before. Thence, generation by generation, naming father, mother and heir, he traced down a line of sixteen successors to Maweke. Pausing a moment, while a look of surprise and wonder was exchanged by the listening chiefs, Moikeha continued:

“Maweke the husband,

“Naiolaukea the wife;

“Mulielealii the husband,

“Wehelani the wife;

“Moikeha the husband,

“Hooipo the wife.”

Applause followed this announcement by the stranger that he was the son of Mulielealii, the alii-nui of Oahu, and the jesting and good-natured manner in which he concluded the kuauhau by predicting his success in the coming contest, and marriage [129]with Hooipo, made him no enemies among the competing chiefs. Hooipo was now sure that she could make a choice without the trouble and excitement of a race to Kaula; but the canoes were ready, and all she could do was to hope and pray that Moikeha would bring back the palaoa.

But what were Moikeha’s preparations for the race? When asked by Puna, he pointed to a small canoe with an outrigger drawn up on the beach, and a single long-haired man of strange aspect standing motionless beside it with a paddle in his hand. Puna shook his head doubtingly, and Hooipo looked disappointed. Others who noted the stranger’s slim preparations for the race imagined that he was treating the contest as a jest; but he announced himself in readiness, and the signal for departure was given.

The chiefs sprang toward the beach, and in a few minutes had launched their canoes and passed through the heavy surf, when with strong and steady pulling the race began in earnest for the open sea. Moikeha alone seemed to be in no haste. He took formal leave of Puna, and, noting Hooipo’s look of impatience, smilingly said to her as he turned toward the beach: “I will bring back the palaoa!” The assurance contented her. The other canoes were beyond the surf, but she believed him and was happy.

Satisfying himself that the sail was ready for use and everything required for the voyage aboard, Moikeha and his assistant shoved their canoe into the water, and with a few vigorous strokes of their paddles dashed through the surf. The passage was so adroitly made as to attract the attention of the many who witnessed it from the shore. For a few minutes the canoe remained almost motionless, except as it was tossed from wave to wave. Then the sail was spread. This movement was unaccountable to those on shore, for the little wind stirring was directly from the west, to which point the canoe was bearing for an offing to round the southern capes of the island. But if the witnesses were surprised at the spreading of a sail under such circumstances, they were little less than astounded when they saw the sail fill with wind and the canoe suddenly speed out to sea as if driven by a hurricane.

Moikeha’s long-haired companion was Laamaomao, god of the winds, who had accompanied him from Raiatea. Behind the [130]sail sat the friendly deity, from whose exhaustless ipu of imprisoned winds a gale was sent forth which carried the canoe to Kaula before daylight the next morning. Effecting a landing soon after sunrise, Puna’s messenger was found, and at once delivered to Moikeha the palaoa, which he had been instructed to surrender to the chief first demanding it. Content in the possession of the talisman, Moikeha and his companion remained on the island for refreshment until past midday, and then started on their return to Kauai, favored by the same winds that had borne them to Kaula, but proceeding with less haste. Toward night the eight other chiefs landed within a few hours of each other, and great was their astonishment on learning that the palaoa had been delivered to a chief claiming it early that morning.

“He must have had wings,” said one of them.

“He was surely helped by the gods,” suggested another, who had been the first to land after Moikeha. “But for that the palaoa would have been mine, as you all know. But who can struggle with the gods? Let us not incur their anger by complaint.”

As it was easy for the others to reconcile themselves to Moikeha’s success, good-humor was soon restored, and the next morning, in company with the messenger, they all re-embarked for Kauai. On the evening of the same day Moikeha landed at Kapaa, and hastened to place in the hands of Puna the talisman which made him the husband of Hooipo. Now assured of the rank of the victor, Puna was gratified at his success, and Hooipo made no disguise of her joy. Tradition says she fell in love with the handsome stranger on first beholding him; but be that as it may, when he returned from Kaula with the palaoa she was frank enough to confess that his success had made her happy.

In the course of a few days all of the defeated chiefs returned to Kapaa, and Moikeha invited them to a feast, over which they forgot their rivalry and renewed the pledges of friendship embraced in the terms and made a condition of the contest. They sought by many ingenious ways to draw from Moikeha the secret of his success; but he failed to enlighten them, and they were compelled to content themselves with the belief that he had been assisted by some supernatural power, possibly by Apukohai, the great fish-god of Kauai, who sometimes seized canoes and bore them onward with almost incredible velocity. [131]

In due time Hooipo became the wife of Moikeha, who, on the death of Puna, succeeded him as the alii-nui of Kauai, where he remained to the end of his life. He was blessed with a number of sons, through one of whom, it may be mentioned, the sovereignty of the island was continued in the family after Moikeha was laid under the black kapa.

Tradition next refers to Moikeha about twenty-five years after his marriage with Hooipo. The death of Puna had left him the sovereignty of Kauai, and his principal residence was at Waialua. He had seven sons, and his court, like that of his predecessor, was noted for the distinguished chiefs, priests, prophets and poets connected with it.

As the life of Moikeha was drawing to a close a strong desire possessed him to see once more his foster-son Laa, whom, on his departure from Raiatea, he had left with his brother Olopana, whose presumptive heir and successor the young chief had become. In preparation for a journey thither he ordered a number of large double canoes to be repaired and put in order for the open sea, and had some time before despatched a large party of hunters to the cliffs along the coast for the feathers of the mamo, from which to fabricate a royal mantle for the ward of his youth.

As but a single small yellow feather of the kind used in a royal mantle is found under each wing of the mamo, the task of securing the many thousands required was by no means a brief or easy service; but in time the feathers were gathered and the cloak was completed. As the choicest feathers alone were used, the garment was one of the most brilliant and elaborate ever made on Kauai, and represented the labor of a hundred persons for a year.

But when everything was in readiness for his departure for the south, Moikeha concluded that he was too old and feeble to undertake the voyage. In this conclusion he was sustained by the auguries of the prophets and the persuasion of his sons. [132]His third son was Kila. He was distinguished for his capacity and courage, and especially for his skill as a navigator, and it was finally decided that he should make the journey to Raiatea as the messenger of Moikeha, and invite Laa to revisit the Hawaiian group, assuring him of the feeble health of his foster-father and of his anxiety to embrace him before death separated them for ever.

Kila was delighted with the mission. For several years intercourse between the Hawaiian and southern groups had been almost completely suspended, but from boyhood his dreams had been of visits to the far-off and misty shores of Kahiki, of which he had heard Moikeha speak; and now that an opportunity was presented for gratifying his appetite for adventure in unknown seas, his joy was boundless, and so vigorously did he push the work of preparation that in a few days the canoes were equipped and provisioned for the voyage. The provisions consisted, in long voyages of that period, of dried fish, dried bananas and plantains, cocoanuts, yams and potatoes, with poi and paiai, fresh fruits and cooked fowls and pigs, for early consumption. Large calabashes of fresh water were also provided, but frequent baths largely diminished the craving for that necessity.

Sacrifices were offered, the auguries were pronounced favorable, and the fleet of double canoes set sail for the south. Kila was accompanied by three of his brothers, and, more important still, by the venerable Kamahualele, the friend and astrologer of Moikeha, who had borne him company from Raiatea more than a quarter of a century before, and chanted his inspired visions of the future off the coast of Kau. He went as Kila’s chief navigator and especial counsellor.

The fleet passed through the group and took its final departure from the most southern point of the island of Hawaii. Wind and weather were both favorable, and without a mishap of consequence the expedition arrived in due time at Raiatea, first touching for guidance at some of the other islands of the southern group.

Kila landed at Opoa through the sacred entrance of Avamoa. His flag and state were recognized by Olopana, who was still living, and the sons of Moikeha and their personal attendants were ceremoniously conducted to the royal mansion, where Kila made known the purpose of his visit. Olopana was greatly interested in the story of Moikeha’s successful establishment on [133]Kauai, but refrained from referring to the circumstances which led to their separation many years before. He was also informed of the death of his father, Mulielealii, and the succession of his brother Kumuhonua to the rank and authority of alii-nui of Oahu.

With the affectionate greetings of Moikeha, Kila presented to Laa the brilliant mamo, or royal mantle, of which he was made the bearer, and expressed the hope that he would comfort the few remaining days of his foster-father by returning with him on a visit to Kauai. Olopana strongly objected to the proposed journey, urging his advanced years and the probability of his early death; but when assured by Laa of his speedy return he reluctantly consented, and after a round of hospitable feasts and entertainments, in his own double canoes, and attended by his priest, astrologer, master of ceremonies, musicians, and a number of knightly and noble friends, Laa accompanied Kila and his party back to Hawaii.

The voyage was made in good time, and as the combined fleet, with canoes of royal yellow and pennons flying, coursed through the group to Kauai, stopping at several points to exchange courtesies with the ruling chiefs, it attracted unusual attention; and when Laa landed at Waialua, on the island of Oahu, to greet his relatives, and the people learned that the son of Ahukai had returned from the distant land of Kahiki rich in honors and possessions, they strewed his path with flowers and welcomed him as if he were a god.

Proceeding to Kauai, after a brief stay at Waialua, Laa was affectionately received by Moikeha, his foster-father, who had left him a child in Kahiki, and for a month or more the Kauaian court blazed nightly with feasts and festivals given in his honor.

Returning to Oahu, Laa took up his residence for a time at Kualoa. A large mansion was constructed for him, with ample accommodations for his friends and retainers, and the chiefs of the island esteemed it an honor to share his friendship and accept his hospitality.

There was no jealousy of Laa, for it was known that he would soon return to Raiatea, there to permanently remain as the heir and successor of Olopana. In his veins ran the noblest blood of Oahu. He was the son of the great-grandson of the great Paumakua in direct and unchallenged descent, and the adopted [134]heir of the grandson of Maweke, the proud descendant of the Nanaula dynasty of kings.

It was not deemed well that the line of Paumakua, through so distinguished a representative as Laa, should be perpetuated solely on a foreign soil. From a suggestion the matter came to be seriously discussed by the leading chiefs, and finally Laa was approached on the subject. Being a young man, the patriotic proposal of the chiefs very naturally accorded with his tastes, and, without great persuasion, he expressed a willingness to comply with what seemed to be a general request.

But the approval of Laa did not quite settle the delicate question, as the chiefs at once observed on casting around for a suitable wife for so desirable a husband. The most of them had daughters or sisters of eligible rank and age. But which one of them should they select? Whose family should be so honored? They were willing to leave the choice to Laa, but, sagaciously anticipating the result, he declined to make the selection.

As usual in momentous cases of doubt, the high-priest was consulted, and the matter was settled in a manner quite satisfactory to Laa. It was agreed that he should marry three wives, all on the same day, and the maidens selected were Hoakanui, daughter of Lonokaehu, of Kualoa; Waolena, daughter of a chief of Kaalaea; and Mano, daughter of a chief of Kaneohe. All were noted for their beauty and distinguished blood.

The three brides were brought to the mansion of Laa, at Kualoa, on the day fixed for the triple marriage, and the event was celebrated with splendor and enthusiasm. The hoao, or marriage agreement, was made public by a herald, as was then the custom among the nobility; the brides, attired becomingly and decked with garlands, were delivered in form to the bride-groom, and in the evening a feast was served on the grounds to more than a thousand guests, with hula, mele, and other festive accompaniments, including mele-inoas, or songs of personal application to the new wives and their husband.

This triple marriage is one of the most thoroughly-established incidents of remote Hawaiian tradition. After his marriage Laa remained a year at Kualoa, and then began to prepare for his return to Raiatea. He looked forward to his departure with mingled feelings of regret and satisfaction, for his brief married life had been singularly as well as most bountifully blessed. On [135]the same day he had been presented with a son by each of his three wives, and an ancient chant thus refers to the event:

Moikeha died soon after, and Laa bade farewell to the Hawaiian Islands and returned to Raiatea just in time to receive the dying blessing of Olopana. As he had promised, he left his three wives and their sons in Oahu, where they were well cared for. The names of the children, as mentioned in the chant quoted, were Ahukini-a-Laa, Kukona-a-Laa, and Lauli-a-Laa, from whom it was in after-generations the pride and glory of the governing families of Oahu and Kauai to trace their lineage. From Ahukini-a-Laa Queen Kapiolani, wife of Kalakaua, the present sovereign of the islands, is recorded in descent through a line of Kauaian chiefs and kings.

Kila, after his return from Raiatea, established himself in the valley of Waipio, on the island of Hawaii, and became prosperous in the possessions abandoned by his uncle Olopana a generation before. He was the ancestor of several prominent Hawaiian families, who traced their descent to him as late as during the reign of Kamehameha I.

With the return of Laa to Raiatea all communication between the Hawaiian and southern groups seems to have abruptly terminated, and for a period of about six hundred years, or until the arrival of Captain Cook in 1778, the Hawaiians learned nothing of the great world beyond their little archipelago, and knew that lands existed elsewhere only through the mysterious mooolelos of their priests, and a folk-lore consisting of broken chains of fables and tales of the past in which the supernatural had finally become the dominant feature. [137]

THE APOTHEOSIS OF PELE.

THE ADVENTURES OF THE GODDESS WITH KAMAPUAA.

In the pantheon of ancient Hawaiian worship—or, rather, of the worship of the group from the twelfth century to the nineteenth—the deity most feared and respected, especially on the island of Hawaii, was the goddess Pele. She was the queen of fire and goddess of volcanoes, and her favorite residence was the vast and ever-seething crater of Kilauea, beneath whose molten flood, in halls of burning adamant and grottoes of fire, she consumed the offerings of her worshippers and devised destruction to those who long neglected her or failed to respect her prerogatives.

Her assistants and companions, as related by tradition, were her five brothers and eight sisters, all of them clothed with especial functions, and all but little less merciless and exacting than Pele herself. The first in authority under Pele was Moho, king of steam. The others were charged, respectively, with the duties of creating explosions, thunders and rains of fire, moving and keeping the clouds in place, breaking canoes, fighting with spears of flame, hurling red-hot masses of lava, and doing whatever else the goddess commanded.

As the family claimed tribute of the entire island of Hawaii, to receive it they frequently visited the active and extinct craters of other districts, and earthquakes heralded their departure from Kilauea. The temples of Pele were numerous, particularly in the neighborhood of old lava-flows, and their priests were always well sustained. The crater of Kilauea was especially sacred to the goddess, and the earth around it could not be safely disturbed. An offering was first made of a part of everything eaten there, and fruits, pigs, fowls, fish, and sometimes human beings, were thrown into the crater to appease the wrath of the goddess and avert a threatened overflow.

The Pele family was neither connected with, nor controlled [140]by, the supreme gods of Hawaiian worship, nor was it a part either of the ancient or later theocracy of the group, as brought down by the priesthood of Hika-paloa, the godhead and trinity of original creation. It was an indigenous and independent development of the twelfth century, until which period the family was unknown on Hawaii; and the strong hold it secured and for centuries maintained in the native heart was due partly to a popular faith in, and worship of, the spirits of departed chiefs and ancestors, and partly to the continued and ever-visible evidences of the power and malignity of the volcanic deities. And so, indeed, was it with the many other deities of Hawaiian adoration. While Kane was deemed the creator and undoubted superior of them all, they were seldom restrained in the exercise of their several functions, and individual appeals to them through their priests were necessary to secure their favor or placate their wrath.

With this brief reference to the worship and attributes of the terrible goddess and her family, the story of their mortal lives will now be told, and a plain relation given of the strange events which led to their apotheosis. Every tradition refers to them as deities at the time of their arrival at Hawaii and occupation of Kilauea, and all abound in marvellous tales of their exploits, the most wonderful being connected with the Oahuan warrior Kamapuaa, one of the lovers of Pele, who was transformed by the bards into a supernatural monster—a being half-man and half-hog—with powers almost equal to those of Pele herself. A careful analysis, however, of the various mooolelos of Pele and her family renders it plain that they came to the group as simple human beings, and as human beings lived and died, as did also Kamapuaa, and that superstition subsequently elevated their mortal deeds to the realms of supernatural achievement.

The Pele family came to Hawaii during the reign of Kamiole, the usurper, from one of the southern islands—probably Samoa—in about the year A.D. 1175. It was of chiefly blood, and also of priestly lineage, and, to escape the penalties of defeat, had, at the close of a long and disastrous war, fled northward and found a home on Hawaii. The head of the family had fallen in battle, and Moho, the eldest of the sons, assumed the direction of what remained of the once powerful household.

The fugitives first landed at Honuapo, in the district of Kau, [141]but, finding no lands there available, coasted along to the southern shores of Puna, and finally located in the valleys back of Keauhou, among the foothills of Mauna Loa, including the crater of Kilauea. A few miles to the westward an overflow had reached the sea the year before, and as the volcano was still active, and earthquakes were of frequent occurrence in the neighborhood, the valleys had been deserted, and the new-comers who boldly settled there were soon spoken of as being under the especial protection of the gods, since they seemed to fear neither earthquakes nor threatened inundations of fire. Under the circumstances almost everything they did was credited to supernatural agencies, and it was not long before Pele, Moho and Kamakaua—the three most influential members of the little community—were regarded as kahunas of unusual sanctity and power.

The Pele family proper consisted, at that time, of Pele, her two brothers, Moho and Kamakaua, and a younger sister named Ulolu, who was after her apotheosis known as Hiiaka-ika-pali-opele. With them, however, were a number of relatives—principally females, whose protectors had perished in the struggle preceding their departure from Samoa—and about thirty attendants. The brothers were large, stalwart men, who had distinguished themselves in arms in their native land, and their attendants were warriors of tried courage and capacity. From these companions and assistants were created the three additional brothers and seven sisters of Pele mentioned in the meles of the bards. One of the former—Kanehekili—is said to have been a hunchback, as was also Kamakaua, but the fighting qualities of neither seem to have been impaired by the deformity.

Pele was as courageous as she was personally attractive. She had taken an active part in the wars of her father, and with her own hand had slain a chief who attempted to abduct her. Her brothers were devoted to her, and her bright eyes and queenly presence commanded the respect and homage of all who approached her.

And now, cultivating their lands in the valleys back of Keauhou, and living contentedly and without fear of molestation, we will leave the little colony for a time and refer to another important character in the story we are telling—Kamapuaa, the traditional monster of Oahu, whose deeds so aggrandize the [142]folk-lore of that island. In some meles he is depicted as a hog with a human head, and in others as a being with a human form and head of a hog; but in all he is described as a monster of prodigious bulk and malicious and predatory propensities.

Glancing back a half-century or more before the landing of the Pele family in Puna, we note the arrival in the group of a number of independent parties of immigrants or adventurers from the southern islands. Among them were the chiefs Kalana and Huma. They came with considerable of a following, including the beautiful Kamaunui and a few of her relatives. The party landed on the island of Maui, and, after some wandering and change of locations, finally settled in Waihee, a spot noted for its beauty and natural advantages. Huma loved the fair Kamaunui. He had whispered soft words to her on their long journey from Kahiki, and fed her with the choicest food to be found among the stores of his great double canoe; but she loved Kalana better, and, when she became his wife, Huma abruptly left Waihee, returning, it is supposed, to his native land.

The only child of this marriage was Hina, who on reaching womanhood became the wife of Olopana, a chief of the island of Oahu. Although of the same name, he was in nowise related to the Olopana who was the brother of Moikeha and grandson of Maweke. This chief had arrived from the south a few years before his marriage with Hina, and, with his younger brother, Kahikiula, settled in Koolau, or on the Koolau side of the island of Oahu, where he had acquired very considerable possessions. By what chance he met Hina, or through what influence he won her, tradition does not mention, but as his wife she went with him to Oahu, and there remained.

Hina was fair, and Kahikiula, unlike his brother, was young and handsome. They were happy in the society of each other, and were therefore much together. She went with him to the hills for wild fruits and berries, and he followed her to the sea-shore to gather shells and limpets. The jealousy of Olopana was at last aroused, and when Hina presented him with a son he charged Kahikiula with its paternity and refused to accept the child as his own. This estranged the brothers and made the lot of Hina miserable. [143]

From its birth Olopana disliked the child, and in his resentment named it Kamapuaa, signifying a hog-child, or child of a hog. As the infant showed no marked physical characteristics of that animal, it is probable that Olopana fastened upon it the graceless appellation in a spirit of retaliation. But, whatever may have prompted its bestowal, the child certainly bore the name through life, thus giving to the bards who chanted the story of his acts the cue and pretext for shaping him into the monster depicted by tradition.

Having no love for Kamapuaa, Olopana took little interest in his growth from year to year to the mighty manhood which he finally attained, and which excited the admiration of all others. The more Kamapuaa was praised the greater dislike did Olopana feel for him, and at length the presence of the young giant became so obnoxious to him that he ordered him, under penalty of death, to leave the district.

Failing to understand the cause of this unnatural hatred, the anger of Kamapuaa was at last aroused, and he strode away from the home of his youth with his heart filled with bitterness and vows of vengeance. As he left, Kahikiula presented him with a long and finely-finished spear tipped with bone, and his mother threw over his broad shoulders the feather cape of a chief, and hung around his neck a palaoa, or talisman carved from the tooth of some great animal of the sea.

Kamapuaa knew of a large cavern in the hills some miles distant from Koolau, the name by which will be designated the place of his birth, and thither he repaired and took up his residence. He led a wild, predatory life, and was soon joined by others as reckless as himself, until the party numbered fifty or sixty in all. Made bolder by this following, Kamapuaa began to harass the estates of Olopana. He stole his pigs, fowls and fruits, and whatever else his little band required, and delighted in breaking his nets, cutting adrift his canoes and robbing his fish-ponds. In a spirit of youthful bravado he had his body, from his loins upward, tattooed in black, shaved his head and beard to the resemblance of bristles, and hung from his shoulders a short mantle of tanned hog-skin, the hair being left to be worn on the outer side. In this guise his name did not seem to be altogether inappropriate, and he was pleased at the terror his appearance inspired. [144]

Becoming still bolder, Kamapuaa resolved to inaugurate a more vigorous warfare upon Olopana, and began to cut down his cocoanut-trees and destroy his growing crops. This brought the matter to a crisis, as such acts were always regarded as a declaration of war. The depredations of Kamapuaa were invariably committed at night, and it was some time before the real aggressors were discovered. Koolau was filled with stories of the marauding exploits of a lawless band, led by a monster half-man and half-hog, and the kahunas were called upon to ascertain the character of the spoilers, and, if found to be supernatural, placate them with sacrifices.

While the kilos were plying their arts the mystery was suddenly solved in a more practical manner. Detected one night in destroying the walls of one of Olopana’s fish-ponds, Kamapuaa and a number of his party were secretly followed to their hiding-place in the hills. This information was brought to Olopana, and he promptly equipped a small force of warriors to follow and capture or destroy the plundering band, which, he was enraged beyond all measure in learning, was under the leadership of his outcast son or nephew, Kamapuaa.

But the task of capturing or destroying Kamapuaa and his band was by no means an easy one. Of the party first sent to attack them in their mountain stronghold all were killed with the exception of a single warrior, and he was allowed to return to tell the tale of the slaughter and take to Olopana the defiance of Kamapuaa.

This satisfied the chief that Kamapuaa’s purpose was rebellion as well as pillage, and a force of six hundred warriors was organized and sent against the outlaws. This forced Kamapuaa to change his tactics, and, leaving their retreat, in which they might have been surrounded and brought to submission by famine, the rebels retired farther back into the mountains, where they for months defied the whole force of Olopana. Frequent skirmishes occurred and many lives were lost, but every attempt to surround and capture the desperate band was frustrated by the dash and sagacity of their leader.

Once, when closely pursued and pressed against the verge of a narrow gorge, the rebels crossed the chasm and escaped to the other side by some means unknown to their pursuers, and the story was told and believed that Kamapuaa, taking the form [145]of a gigantic hog, had spanned the gorge and given his followers speedy passage over his back to the other side, when he leaped across at a single bound and escaped with them. The spot marking this marvellous achievement is still pointed out at Hauula, and the tracks of the monster in the solid rock are shown.

It is difficult to say just how long this desultory fighting continued, but in the end the rebels were surrounded and nearly destroyed, and Kamapuaa was captured unhurt and delivered over to Olopana, to the great joy and relief of the people of Koolau. Olopana had erected a heiau at Kaneohe, where Lonoaohi officiated as high-priest, and thither he resolved to take his rebellious son or nephew, and offer him as a sacrifice to the gods. Hina pleaded for the life of Kamapuaa, but Olopana could not be moved. Satisfied that he would listen to no appeals for mercy, she determined to save her son, even at the sacrifice of her husband, and to that end secured the assistance of the high-priest, through whose treachery to Olopana the life of Kamapuaa was saved.

On the day fixed for the sacrifice Kamapuaa, carefully bound and strongly guarded, was taken to the heiau, followed by Olopana, who was anxious to witness the ghastly ceremonies, and with his own eyes see that his troublesome enemy was duly slain and his body laid upon the altar. In offering human sacrifices the victim was taken without the walls of the heiau and slain with clubs by the assistants of the high-priest. The body was then brought in and placed upon the altar in front of the entrance to the inner court, or sanctuary, when the left eye was removed by the officiating priest, and handed, if he was present, to the chief who had ordered the sacrifice. This being done, the offering was then ceremoniously made, and the body was left upon the altar for the elements to deal with.

Standing, with three or four attendants, at the door of his tabued retreat, within forty or fifty paces of the altar, Olopana saw his victim preliminarily led to the place of sacrifice, and a few minutes after motioned for the ceremonies to begin. Kamapuaa was taken without the walls of the temple to be slain. He was in charge of three assistant priests, one of them leading him by a stout cord around his neck, another keeping closely behind him, and the third walking silently at his side with the [146]club of execution in his hand. Passing beyond the outer wall, the party entered a small walled enclosure adjoining, and the executioner raised his club and brought it down upon the head of his victim. Kamapuaa smiled, but did not move. Twice, thrice with mighty sweep the club descended upon the head of Kamapuaa, but scarcely bent the bristly hairs upon his crown.

With a semblance of wonder the executioner, whose tender blows would have scarcely maimed a mouse, dropped his club and said:

“Three times have I tried and failed to slay him! The gods refuse the sacrifice!”

“It is so, it is so, it is so!” chimed his companions. “The gods indeed refuse the sacrifice! We have seen it!”

Therefore, instead of slaying Kamapuaa, the assistants, as they had been secretly instructed to do by the high-priest, removed the cords from his limbs, smeared his hair, face and body with the fresh blood of a fowl, and on their shoulders bore him back and placed him upon the altar as if dead.

The high-priest approached the apparently lifeless body, and bent for a moment over the face, as if to remove the left eye; then placing on a wooden tray the eye of a large hog, which had been procured for that purpose, he sent an assistant with it to Olopana, at the same time retiring within the inner court, and leaving by the side of Kamapuaa, and near his right hand, as if by accident, the sharp ivory pahoa, or dagger, with which he had, to all appearance, been operating.

Giving but a single glance at the eye presented to him by the assistant of the high-priest, Olopana passed it to an attendant without the customary semblance of eating it, and approached the altar alone. Kamapuaa did not breathe. His face was streaked with blood, his eyelids were closed, and not a single muscle moved to indicate life.

Olopana looked at the hated face for a moment, and then turned to leave the heiau, not caring to witness the ceremonies of the formal offering. As he did so Kamapuaa clutched the dagger beside his hand, and, springing from the altar, drove the blade into the back of Olopana. Again and again he applied the weapon until the chief, with a groan of anguish, fell dead at the feet of his slayer.

Horrified at what they beheld, the attendants of Olopana [147]sprang toward their fallen chief. But their movements, whatever their import, did not disturb Kamapuaa. He had been accustomed to meeting and accepting odds in battle, and when he had secured possession of the ihe and huge axe of stone conveniently placed for his use behind the altar, he boldly approached and invited an encounter.

But the challenge was not accepted. The attendants of the chief did not ordinarily lack courage, but they were unnerved at the sight of a victim, slain, mutilated and laid upon the altar by the priest, coming to life and springing to his feet full-armed before his enemies.

Appearing upon the scene, the high-priest expressed great surprise and horror at what had occurred, and his assistants wildly clamored at the sacrilege; but no hand was laid upon Kamapuaa, and the friends of Olopana finally left the heiau, taking his body with them.

This tragedy in the heiau of Kawaewae created a profound excitement in the district. Had Kamapuaa been at all popular with the masses the death of Olopana at his hands would have occasioned but little indignation; but as many beside the dead chief had suffered through his plundering visitations, and hundreds of lives had been sacrificed in his pursuit and final capture, the people rose almost in a body to hunt him down and destroy him.

Hina attempted to save her son from the wrath of his enemies, but her influence was insufficient to protect him, and he again sought refuge in the mountains; but his following was small, and he finally crossed the island, and, with a party of forty or fifty reckless and adventurous spirits, set sail for the windward islands in a fleet of eight or ten canoes which he in some manner obtained from the people of Ewa.

More than one tradition avers that Kamapuaa traveled to foreign lands after leaving Oahu, even to the lands where the sky and sea were supposed to meet; but he made no such journey at that time. He spent some months in sight-seeing among the islands southeast of Oahu, and pretty nearly circumnavigated them all. Sometimes, for the lack of better occupation, [148]he and his companions engaged in the petty wars of the districts visited by them; but they generally led a roving, careless life, maintaining peaceful relations with all, and plundering only when every other means of securing supplies failed.

And thus they journeyed from island to island until they reached Hawaii. Kamiole, the usurper, had but just been defeated and slain by Kalapana, the son of Kanipahu, the hunchback, and Kohala, where Kamapuaa first landed, was still suffering from the effects of the war. He therefore proceeded southward along the coast, touching at several points in Kona; then rounding the southern cape of the island, he sailed along the shores of Kau to Honuapo, where he landed and spent several weeks.

It was while he was there that Kamapuaa first learned of the Pele family in the adjoining district of Puna, and became acquainted with the many stories of enchantment and sorcery connected with the little colony. Pele was described to him as a woman of unusual personal beauty, and the lands occupied by the family and its retainers were said to be secure against lava inundations from Kilauea through the especial favor and protection of the gods.

These strange stories interested Kamapuaa, and he resolved to satisfy himself of their truth by visiting the mysterious colony. He accordingly set sail with his companions for Puna, and, landing at Keauhou, took up his abode near the sea-shore, not far from the lands occupied by Pele and her relatives.

As the colonists seemed to pay but little attention to the new-comers, at the expiration of three or four days Kamapuaa concluded to open a way to an acquaintance with them by visiting their settlement in person, and with a few of his companions appeared one morning before the comfortable hale of Pele and her family.

Moho received the strangers courteously, inquired the purpose of their visit to Keauhou and from what part of the country they came, and hospitably invited them to a breakfast of meat, potatoes, poi and fruits. The invitation was not declined, and during the repast Moho learned from Kamapuaa that he was the chief of the party, and that the visit of himself and companions to Puna had no especial object beyond that of observation and pleasure. [149]

The tattooed body and bristly hair and beard of Kamapuaa imparted to his otherwise handsome person a strangely ferocious and forbidding appearance, and at the mention of his name and place of nativity Moho at once recognized in him, from report, the monster of Oahu, who had ravaged the estates of Olopana and finally assassinated that chief in the heiau of Kawaewae. His presence, therefore, in that part of Puna, was considerably less welcome than the words of Moho implied; but no act of the latter indicated a suspicion that the ulterior purposes of his visitors were possibly otherwise than peaceful, and when they took their departure for the beach it was with mutual assurances of friendship.

But Kamapuaa did not take his leave that morning until he saw Pele. He found a pretext for prolonging his visit until she finally appeared, and when Moho made them known to each other Kamapuaa comported himself with a grace and gallantry never before observed in him by his companions. He admitted to himself that the reports of Pele’s beauty had not been exaggerated, and wondered how it happened that she had remained for years unmarried.

The thought then came to Kamapuaa—perhaps not for the first time—that he would marry Pele himself and settle permanently in Puna. The idea of marriage had seldom occurred to him, but after he saw Pele he could think of little else. He greatly admired her appearance, and could see no reason why she should not be equally well pleased with his. No mirror, save the uncertain reflection of the waters, had ever shown him his hideously-tattooed face and bristly hair and beard, and the hog-skin still worn over his stained shoulders was regarded by him as a manly and warlike covering, well calculated to impress with favor a woman of Pele’s courage and accomplishments.

But Kamapuaa did not urge his suit at once. He visited Moho almost every day for half a month or more, and endeavored to render himself agreeable to Pele by sending her baskets of choice wild fruits, fish from the sea which women were allowed to eat, and strings of beautiful and curious shells gathered from the shores and caverns of the coast. He saw her occasionally, and observed that she avoided him; but he attributed her seeming repugnance to him to a coyishness common to her sex, and drew from it no augury unfavorable to his suit. [150]

The companions of Kamapuaa soon discovered the attraction that was keeping him so long in the neighborhood of Keauhou, where food was becoming the reverse of abundant, and urged him to return to Honuapo; but he silenced their clamors with promises of good lands and lives of ease in the valleys back of them, and they hopefully struggled on with their unsatisfactory fare.

Kamapuaa finally made a proposal of marriage to Pele; but she refused to entertain it, and was promptly and heartily sustained by her brothers. But a simple refusal did not satisfy Kamapuaa. He urged that his blood was noble, and that the proposed union was in every way fitting and proper, and would prove mutually beneficial. Enraged at his presumption and persistency, Pele boldly expressed her contempt for him and aversion to his presence. In return Kamapuaa threatened to seize her by force and desolate the colony. Tradition asserts that she thereupon defied his power, and denounced him to his face as “a hog and the son of a hog.”

But, whatever may have been the precise language used on the occasion by Pele, it was sufficiently definite and insulting not only to destroy the last hope of Kamapuaa, but to arouse in his heart the bitterest feelings of revenge, and he retired in wrath to the beach to plan and speedily execute a terrible scheme of retaliation.

Without referring to his final interview with Pele and her brothers, Kamapuaa informed his companions that he was at last ready to move—not to Honuapo, however, but to the cultivated valleys immediately back of them, occupied by a family of foreign interlopers and their adherents, who recognized the authority neither of Kalapana nor the governing chief of Puna, and might therefore be dispossessed without incurring the reproach or hostility of any power competent to punish. The project pleased them, but they doubted their ability to drive from their lands so large a number, the most of whom were doubtless skilled in the use of arms.

But Kamapuaa promised to make the way clear to an easy victory. He said he had carefully noted the number of the settlers, and observed the places where the most of them lodged. His plan was to suddenly fall upon them in the night and massacre all the male adherents of the family. This done, they [151]would be masters of the situation, and able to treat on their own terms with the few who remained. It was proposed to include the governing family in the slaughter, but Kamapuaa opposed the suggestion, declaring that one of the brothers of Pele was a priest of great sanctity, whose death by violence would kindle the wrath of the gods; and his counsel prevailed.

Several days elapsed without any movement being made. Kamapuaa was waiting, not only for a relaxation of the vigilance which his incautious threats may have inspired, but for the dark of the waning moon. Finally the blow was struck. Under the favoring cover of darkness Kamapuaa and his companions left the beach and secreted themselves near the scattered huts of the settlers, and at a signal, some time past midnight, rose and massacred every man within reach of their weapons. But few escaped. The screams of the women, who had been spared, rang through the valleys as they fled toward the mansion of Pele and her brothers for protection, and the band of murderers returned satisfied to the beach.

It was the purpose of Kamapuaa to surround the home of the surviving family the next day, and capture Pele by force, as he had threatened, or otherwise bring her and her haughty relatives to terms. But, after what had occurred, Moho readily understood the plans of the assassins, and early next morning abandoned the family cluster of houses, which could not be successfully defended, and sought refuge in a cavern in the hills, about three miles up the valley, accompanied by the entire family and the few others who had escaped the massacre of the night before. There was water in the cavern, and as the fugitives took with them a considerable quantity of provisions, and the opening to the retreat was small and easily defended, they hoped to be able, even if discovered and besieged, to protect themselves until the arrival of relief or the abandonment of the siege as hopeless by their enemies.

The cavern was of volcanic formation and had never been fully explored. It embraced a number of large connecting chambers, with ragged avenues leading back into and up the hill. The only light came through the front entrance, into which, from the inside, were hastily rolled heavy boulders of lava, found here and there detached, leaving openings through which spears and javelins could be thrust. A tiny rivulet of water trickled in somewhere [152]from the darkness, and, after filling a shallow basin in the floor of one of the chambers, ran out through the opening. As air came in from the back of the cavern, it must have been connected with the surface through some one or more of the dark avenues referred to; but not a glimmer of light, so far as the occupants had been able to penetrate the depths, indicated the possibility of an escape in that direction should the cavern be rendered untenable by assault. The party numbered, in all, seven men and eighteen women and children, and they had taken to their retreat a goodly supply of arms and provisions enough to sustain them for some weeks. Thus prepared they gloomily awaited their fate.

But they had fled to the hills not a moment too soon, for early in the day Kamapuaa and his companions appeared and surrounded the deserted habitations of the family. Discovering that his victims had escaped, Kamapuaa promptly divided his followers into small parties, and despatched them to the hills in search of the fugitives or of traces of their flight. He also joined in the search, but went unattended.

In the course of the day all returned to the deserted huts, where they had taken up their quarters, and reported that no traces of the missing colonists had been discovered, and the general opinion was that they had escaped across the mountains. Kamapuaa waited until all the rest had told the stories of their fruitless wanderings, when he announced that he had found what they had lacked the sagacity to discover. He informed them that the fugitives were secreted in a cavern some distance up one of the valleys, where they could be surrounded and captured without difficulty; but he did not mention that he had made the discovery by shrewdly following a dog into the hills, and watching the animal until it stopped in front of the entrance to the cavern. He was willing that his companions should believe that his success was due to some inspiration or prescience of his own.

A guard was immediately detailed to watch the cavern and see that no one escaped, and the next day the place was surrounded and formally besieged. Following these preparations, visible to Moho and his handful of warriors, Kamapuaa approached the entrance sufficiently near to be heard within, and demanded the surrender of the party, promising that the lives of all would be spared. [153]

The demand was refused with words of insult and defiance, and Kamapuaa ordered an assault upon the entrance. Several attempts were made to force the protecting rocks from the opening, but their interstices bristled with spear-points, and, after a number of the assailants had been wounded, that plan of attack was abandoned as impracticable.

A large quantity of dry wood, leaves and grass was then heaped in front of the entrance and fired, in the hope of suffocating the inmates with the heat and smoke of the conflagration; but the draught of air through the cavern kept the smoke from entering, and, although the heat for a time became oppressive immediately around the opening, the connecting chambers were but slightly affected by it. The fire was allowed to die out, and Kamapuaa, on too closely approaching the entrance to note its effects, was made keenly aware of the failure of the project by receiving a sharp spear-thrust in the arm.

As fire and assault had proved unavailing, and a long siege did not accord with his purposes, Kamapuaa next endeavored to effect a breach through the top of the cavern in the rear of the entrance. As this necessitated the removal of an overlying mass of ten or fifteen feet of soil and rocks, the undertaking involved a very considerable amount of hard labor. But the plan met with general favor, and, with oos and other implements obtained from the valleys below, the besiegers entered upon the task of excavating through into the cavern.

For several days the work progressed almost uninterruptedly, and a large pit had been lowered to a depth of eight or ten feet, when the earth began to tremble violently, and a few minutes after the air was filled with sulphurous smoke and ashes. But this was not the most appalling sight beheld by Kamapuaa and his companions. Looking up the valley, which at that point was little more than a narrow gorge, they saw a flood of lava, full a hundred feet in width, bursting from the hillside and pouring down the ravine, its high-advancing crest aflame with burning timber, and sweeping before it a thundering avalanche of half-molten boulders.

With exclamations of dismay they started in full flight down the valley, closely followed by the devouring flood. On, on they sped, past the deserted huts of their victims, past the sandy foothills, past the cocoa-trees that fringed the beach. Turning at [154]the water’s edge, they beheld the awful stream spreading its mantle of death over the broadening valley, and speeding to the sea in broken volumes. Leaping into their canoes, they plunged through the surf and paddled out to sea. Setting sail for Honuapo, Kamapuaa saw, as they left the coast, that the upper part of the valley from which they had fled was filled with lava, and knew that the cavern in which Pele and her companions had sought refuge from his wrath had been deeply buried by the flood.

When the news of the eruption reached Honuapo, the people, who had heard so many strange stories of Pele and her family, did not believe that they had perished. On the contrary, they declared that the eruption had been invoked by Pele to drive Kamapuaa from the district, and that if she had permitted her lands to be destroyed it was with the view of taking up her residence in the crater of Kilauea. This opinion soon crystalized into a belief which spread throughout the island of Hawaii, and another generation saw temples erected to Pele, the goddess of fire, and priests sanctified to her service. All but three of her brothers and sisters were the creations of her early priests, and their attributes gradually grew and took form as they floated down the stream of tradition.

Many adventures are related of Kamapuaa after his flight from Keauhou, but the most or all of them are the dreams of the poets of after-generations; and further reference here to this most striking of the early heroes of the group may be properly concluded with the remark that, shortly after his experiences with the Pele family, he immigrated with a considerable following to one of the southern islands, where he married, distinguished himself in arms, and finally died without revisiting the Hawaiian archipelago. [155]

HUA, KING OF HANA.

THE LEGEND OF THE GREAT FAMINE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY.

With the reign of Hua, an ancient king of Hana, or eastern Maui, is connected a legendary recital of one of the most terrible visitations of the wrath of the gods anywhere brought down by Hawaiian tradition. It is more than probable that the extent of the calamities following Hua’s defiant and barbarous treatment of his high-priest and prophet was greatly colored and exaggerated in turn by the pious historians who received and passed the moooelo down the centuries; but the details of the story have been preserved with harrowing conciseness, and for more than six hundred years were recited as a solemn warning against wanton trespass upon the prerogatives of the priesthood or disregard of the power and sanctity of the gods.

In some of the genealogies Hua is represented as having been the great-grandfather of Paumakua, of Maui. This record, if accepted, would remove him altogether from the Hawaiian group, since Paumakua himself was undoubtedly an immigrant from Tahiti or some other of the southern islands. As he was contemporaneous with the distinguished priest and prophet Naula, who is said to have accompanied Laa-mai-kahiki from Raiatea, he must have appeared two or three generations later than Paumakua, and probably belonged to a collateral branch of the great Hua family from which Paumakua drew his strain.

It may therefore be assumed that as early as A.D. 1170 Hua was the alii-nui, or virtual sovereign, of eastern Maui. He is referred to as the king of Maui, but it is hardly probable that his sway extended over the western division of the island, as it was not until the reign of Piilani, nearly three centuries later, that the people of Maui became finally united under one government. Previous to that time, except at intervals of temporary conquest or occupation, eastern and western Maui were ruled by distinct and frequently hostile lines of kings. Hence the sovereignty of [158]Hua could scarcely have reached beyond the districts of Koolau, Hana, Kipahulu and Kaupo, while the remainder of the island must have recognized the authority either of Palena, the grandson of Paumakua, or of Hanalaa, the distinguished son and successor of Palena, since the later mois of Maui traced their genealogies uninterruptedly through this branch of the Paumakua family.

But, from whatever source Hua may have derived his rank and authority, he was a reckless, independent and warlike chief. Having access to the largest and finest timber in the group, his war-canoes were abundant and formidable, and when not engaged in harassing his neighboring frontiers he was employed in plundering expeditions to the coasts of Hawaii and Molokai. Tradition makes him the aggressor in the earliest remembered war between Maui and Hawaii. Although the name of the war (Kanuioohio) has been preserved, it probably did not reach beyond the limit of a powerful marauding excursion to the coast of Hilo, Hawaii, resulting in the defeat of the chiefs of that district by Hua, but in nothing more than a temporary seizure and occupation of their lands; for at that time Kanipahu was the moi of Hawaii, and would scarcely have permitted a permanent hostile lodgment in Hilo, whose chiefs acknowledged his suzerainty and were therefore entitled to his protection.

The high-priest of Hua was Luahoomoe. He claimed to be an iku-pau—that is, a direct descendant from Kane—and as such was strict in claiming respect for his person and sacred prerogatives. He did not approve of many of Hua’s marauding acts, advising him instead to lead his people in happier and more peaceful pursuits, and not provoke either the retaliation of his enemies or the anger of the gods. This opposition to his aggressive methods exasperated Hua, and a feeling of suspicion and ill-will gradually grew up between him and the priesthood. He began to attribute his occasional failures in arms to deliberately-neglected prayers and sacrifices by Luahoomoe, and on one occasion, after having returned from an unsuccessful expedition to Molokai, he placed his tabu on a spring of water set apart for the use of the heiau, and on another wantonly speared a puaa-hiwa, or black tabued hog, sacred to sacrifice. When expostulated with for thus inviting the wrath of the gods, he threatened the high-priest with similar treatment. [159]

Hua resided principally at Hana, where he constructed one of the largest royal mansions in the group, and all the leisure spared from his warlike pastimes was given to revelry. He had a hundred hula dancers, exclusive of musicians and drummers, and his monthly feasts were prolonged into days and nights of debauchery and unbridled license. Drunk with awa, an intoxicating drink made from a plant of that name, he kept the whole of Hana in an uproar during his frequent seasons of pleasure, and the attractive wives and daughters of his subjects were not unfrequently seized and given to his favorite companions.

The annual festival of Lono was approaching—an event marking the winter solstice, and which was always celebrated impressively on every island of the group. It was an occasion not only for manifesting respect for the nearest and most popular deity of the godhead, but for celebrating, as well, the ending of the old year and the beginning of the new. The ancient Hawaiians divided the year into twelve months of thirty days each. Each month and day of the month was named. They had two modes of measuring time—the lunar and sidereal. The lunar month began on the first day that the new moon appeared in the west, and regulated their monthly feasts and tabu days. Their sidereal month of thirty days marked one of the twelve divisions of the year; but as their two seasons of the year—the Hooilo (rainy) and Kau (dry)—were measured by the Pleiades, and their twelve months of thirty days each did not complete the sidereal year, they intercalated five days at the end of the year measured by months, in order to square that method of reckoning with the movements of the stars. This annual intercalation was made about the 20th of their month of Welehu (December), at the expiration of which the first day of the first month (Makalii) of the new year commenced. This was their Makahiki, or new-year day. The five intercalated days were a season of tabu, and dedicated to a grand yearly festival to Lono.

In preparation for this festival Hua had called for unusually large contributions from the people, and, in anticipation of another hostile expedition to Hawaii, had ordered quotas of warriors, canoes and provisions from his subject chiefs, to be reported at Hana immediately after the beginning of the new year. These exactions caused very general dissatisfaction, and the priesthood assisted in promoting rather than allaying the popular [160]discontent. All this was reported to Hua, and he resolved to liberate himself at once and for the future from what he conceived to be an officious and unwarranted intermeddling of the priesthood with the affairs of state, by deposing or taking the life of Luahoomoe. In this desperate resolution he was sustained by Luuana, a priest who had charge of the heiau or chapel of the royal mansion, and who expected to succeed Luahoomoe as high-priest.

Hua sought in every way for a pretext for deposing or slaying Luahoomoe; but the priest was old in years, exemplary in his conduct, and moved among the people without reproach. Finally, at the instigation of Luuana, who assumed that the advice was a divine inspiration, Hua created a bungling and absurd pretence for an assault upon Luahoomoe. The dishonesty of the scheme was exposed, but it resulted, nevertheless, in the death of the unoffending priest.

As tradition tells the story, Hua found occasion in a public manner to order some uwau, or uau, to be brought to him from the mountains. The uau is a water bird, and seldom found in the uplands. As neither its flesh for eating nor its feathers for decorating could have reasonably been required, the object of despatching snarers in quest of it must have been a subject of comment; but kings then, as later, did not always deign to give reasons for their acts, and preparations were at once made by the household servants and retainers of the king to proceed upon the hunt.

“Be careful that the birds come from the mountains,” said Hua, addressing the trusted hoalii in charge of the hunting party—“only from the mountains,” he repeated; “I will have none from the sea.”

“But can they be found in the mountains?” ventured the hoalii, looking inquiringly toward Luahoomoe, who was standing near and watching a flight of birds which seemed to be strangely confused and ominous of evil.

“Do you inquire of me?” said the priest, after a pause, and finding that the king did not answer.

“I inquire of any one who thinks he knows,” returned the hoalii.

“Then the birds you seek will not be found in the mountains at this season of the year,” returned the priest, “and you must set your snares by the sea-shore.” [161]

“Is it so that you would attempt to countermand my orders?” exclaimed Hua, in apparent anger. “I order my servants to go to the mountains for the uau, and you tell them to set their snares by the sea-shore!”

“I humbly ask the king to remember that I have given no orders,” calmly replied the priest.

“But you have dared to interfere with mine!” retorted the king. “Now listen. My men shall go to the mountains in search of the birds I require. If they find them there I will have you slain as a false prophet and misleader of the people!”

With this savage threat the king walked away with his hoalii, while the priest stood in silence with his face bowed to the earth. He knew the import of Hua’s words. They meant death to him and the destruction of his family. The bloody purpose of the king had been told to him at the sacrificial altar, had been seen by him in the clouds, had been whispered to him from the anu of the sanctuary.

“Since the gods so will it, I must submit to the sacrifice,” was the pious resolution of the priest; “but woe to the hand that strikes, to the eyes that witness the blow, to the land that drinks the blood of the son of Laamakua!”

Luahoomoe had two sons, Kaakakai and Kaanahua. Both were connected with the priesthood, and Kaakakai had been instructed in all the mysteries of the order in anticipation of his succession, on the death of his father, to the position of high-priest. They were young men of intelligence, and their lives had been blameless. Knowing that they would not be spared, Luahoomoe advised them to leave Hana at once and secrete themselves in the mountains, and suggested Hanaula, an elevated spur of the mighty crater of Haleakala, as the place where they would be most likely to escape observation.

But a few weeks before Kaakakai had become the husband of the beautiful Oluolu, the daughter of a distinguished chief who had lost his life in Hua’s first expedition against Hilo. Twice had she sought the heiau for protection against the emissaries of Hua, who had been ordered to seize and bring her to the royal mansion, and in both instances Luahoomoe had given her the shelter of the sacred enclosure. It was there that Kaakakai first met her, and, charmed no less by her beauty than her abhorrence of the lascivious intents of the king, he soon persuaded her to [162]become his wife. But, even as his wife, Kaakakai did not deem her secure from the evil designs of the king, and had found an asylum for her in the humble home of a distant relative in a secluded valley four or five miles back of Hana, where he frequently visited her and cheered her with assurances of his love.

As the danger was imminent, Luahoomoe urged his sons to leave Hana without delay, promising Kaakakai that he would visit Oluolu the next day, and apprise her of her husband’s flight and the place to which he had fled for concealment. But the old priest did not live to fulfil his promise, and Oluolu was left in ignorance of the fate of her husband.

Early next morning the bird-hunters returned, bringing with them a large number of birds, including the uau and ulili, all of which, they averred, had been caught in the mountains, when in reality they had been snared on the sea-shore.

Hua summoned the high-priest, and, pointing to the birds, said: “All these birds were snared in the mountains. You are therefore condemned to die as a false prophet who has been abandoned by his gods, and a deceiver of the people, who are entitled to the protection of their king.”

Taking one of the birds in his hand, the priest calmly replied: “These birds did not come from the mountains; they are rank with the odor of the sea.”

But the hoalii of the king steadfastly maintained that the birds had been snared in the mountains, and Hua declared the assurance of the hunters to be sufficient to outweigh the flimsy testimony of the priest.

Luahoomoe saw that he was doomed, and that the hunters had been schooled to sustain the lying assertion of the hoalii; yet he resolved to disconcert them all and make good his position, no matter what might be the result. He therefore asked permission to open a few of the birds, and the king sullenly granted it.

“Select them yourself,” said the priest to the hoalii, and the latter took from the heap and handed to him three birds. The priest opened them, and the crops of all were found to be filled with small fish and bits of sea-weed.

“Behold my witness!” exclaimed the priest, pointing to the eviscerated birds, and turning toward the hoalii with a look of triumph. [163]

Confounded and enraged at the development, Hua seized a javelin, and without a word savagely drove it into the breast of Luahoomoe, killing him on the spot. A shudder ran through the witnesses as the venerable victim fell to the earth, for violence to a high-priest was a crime almost beyond comprehension; but the king coolly handed the bloody weapon to an attendant, and, with a remorseless glance at the dying priest, leisurely walked away.

Sending for Luuana, he immediately elevated him to the dignity of high-priest, and ordered the body of Luahoomoe to be laid upon the altar of the heiau. The house of the dead priest was then burned, in accordance with ancient custom, and the king’s executioners were despatched with attendants in search of the sons of Luahoomoe.

Proud of his newly-acquired honors, Luuana made preparations for extensive sacrifices, and then proceeded to the heiau with the body of Luahoomoe. As he approached the gate of the outer enclosure, the tall pea, or wooden cross indicative of the sanctity of the place, fell to the ground, and on reaching the inner court the earth began to quake, groans issued from the carved images of the gods, and the altar sank into the earth, leaving an opening from which issued fire and smoke. The attendants dropped the body of the priest and fled from the heiau in dismay, followed by the no less frightened Luuana.

The priests of the temple, who knew nothing of the death of Luahoomoe until they beheld his body about to be offered in sacrifice, stood for a moment awe-stricken at what was transpiring around them. They had been taught that the heiau was the only place of safety for them in a time of danger, and after the flight of Luuana and his attendants they tenderly conveyed the body of the high-priest to a hut within the enclosure to prepare it for burial.

Luuana repaired in haste to the halealii to report to the king what had occurred at the heiau. But his story excited but little surprise in Hua, for events quite as overwhelming were occurring all around them. The earth was affected with a slight but continuous tremor; a hot and almost suffocating wind had set in from the southward; strange murmurs were heard in the air; the skies were crimson, and drops of blood fell from the clouds; and finally reports came from all parts of Hana that the streams, wells and springs were no longer yielding water, and a general flight of the people to the mountains had commenced. [164]

Such chiefs as could be found were hastily called together in council. Hua was completely subdued, and admitted that he had angered the gods by killing Luahoomoe. But what was to be done? Perhaps the sons of the martyred priest might be appealed to. But where were they? No one knew. It was suggested that a hundred human sacrifices be offered, but Luuana declined to appear again at the heiau, and resigned his office of high-priest. Another was appointed, and the sacrifices were ceremoniously offered. The mu had no difficulty in obtaining victims, for the people were desperate and offered themselves by scores. But the drought continued, and the general suffering increased from day to day. All other signs of the displeasure of the gods had passed away.

Other sacrifices were offered in great profusion, and an imu-loa was constructed, where human bodies were baked and in that form presented to the gods. But the springs and streams, remained dry, and the clouds dropped no rain.

The gods were redecorated, and the erection of a new heiau was commenced, but the people remaining in the district were too few and too weak to complete it; and a strict tabu was declared for a season of ten days, but the people were too desperate to observe it, and no attempt was made to punish those who disregarded it. Many drowned themselves, insane from thirst, and such as could procure the poisonous mixture died from the effects of koheoheo administered by their own hands.

The drought extended to the mountains, and the people fled beyond; but wherever they went the streams became dry and the rains ceased. The pestilence became known in western Maui, and the famishing refugees were driven back in attempting to enter that district.

After vainly attempting to stay the dreadful scourge, and seeing his kingdom nearly depopulated, Hua secretly embarked with a few of his attendants for Hawaii. He landed in the district of Kona; but the drought followed him. Wherever he went the fresh waters sank into the earth and the clouds yielded no rain. And so he journeyed on from place to place, carrying famine and misery with him, until in the course of his wanderings, occupying more than three years, he rendered almost one-half of the island of Hawaii a desolation. Finally he died, as the gods had decreed, of thirst and starvation—one legend says [165]in a temple of Kohala—and his bones were left to dry in the sun; and the saying of “rattling are the bones of Hua in the sun,” or “dry are the bones of Hua in the sun,” has come down to the present as a significant reference to the fate of one high in power who defied the gods and persecuted the priesthood.

But rainless skies and drought did not mark alone the footsteps of Hua and his attendants. Wherever the despairing people of the district went the same affliction followed. Some of them sailed to Hawaii, others to Molokai and Oahu, and a few to Kauai; but nowhere could they find relief. Everywhere the drought kept pace with them, and famine and suffering were the result throughout the entire group. The diviners had discovered the cause of the scourge, but neither prayers nor sacrifices could avert or ameliorate it. And so it continued for nearly three and a half years.

During all the long years of famine and death what had befallen Oluolu, the young wife of Kaakakai, left in the secluded valley back of Hana? She saw the blight that suddenly fell upon the land; saw the springs and streams go dry around her humble home; saw the leaves of the banana wither and the grass turn yellow in the valley; saw famishing men, women and children madly searching for water, and tearing down cocoanuts for the little milk they afforded; and then by degrees she learned of all that had transpired and was still transpiring in Hana, including the sad story of the death of Luahoomoe and the flight of Kaakakai. But whither had he fled? No one could tell her; but, wherever he might be, she knew that, if alive, he would some day return to her, and therefore struggled on as best she could to live.

Her home was with Kaakao, whose wife was Mamulu. They had been blessed with three sons, all of whom had perished in Hua’s useless wars, and now in their old age they were occupying a little kuleana, so far up the narrow valley winding into the hills that no land for cultivation was found above them. They had small patches of taro and potatoes, a score or two of cocoanut-trees of old growth, and plantains and bananas enough for their use. In the hills back of them were ohias and other wild [166]fruits, and, with pigs and fowls in abundance, there was never any lack of food in the house of Kaakao.

But when the drought came, accompanied by the scorching south wind, Kaakao shared the fate of his neighbors. His pigs and fowls scattered in search of water, and did not return. The ripening plantains and bananas, together with a few bulbs of taro, were hastily gathered, and the food supply stored in the house was adequate to the wants of the occupants for some weeks to come; but fresh water was nowhere to be found, and the cocoanuts were stripped from the trees and laid away to meet, as far as possible, the terrible emergency.

Thus passed nearly half a month, during which time harrowing reports from the valleys below reached the kuleana through parties vainly searching everywhere among the hills for water. Then Kaakao saw that his supply of cocoanut-milk was nearly exhausted, and resolved to visit the sea-shore, where he knew of a spring in times past dripping from the rocks almost on a level with the waves. “Surely,” he thought, “that spring cannot be dry, with all the water around it.” And, swinging two water-calabashes over his shoulders, he started for the sea-shore. But he never returned. In passing to the coast he was seized, among others, and offered as a sacrifice in the heiau.

For two days his return was awaited at the kuleana. Then Mamulu solemnly said: “Kaakao is dead. We have no more water and but little food. Why suffer longer? Let us drink koheoheo and die.”

“Not to-day, my good friend Mamulu,” replied Oluolu, soothingly. “We will talk of it to-morrow. Last night in my dreams a whisper told me not to despair. Let us wait.”

The next morning Oluolu rose at daylight. The last of the cocoanut-milk was gone, and the mouths of both were dry and feverish. There was a strangely cheerful light in Oluolu’s eyes as she bent over the suffering but patient Mamulu, and, holding up a calabash, said: “I shall soon return with this filled with water!—think of it, Mamulu!—filled with pure, fresh water!”

“Poor child!” replied Mamulu, not doubting that her mind was wandering. “But where will you go for it?”

“Only a short walk—right up the valley!” returned Oluolu. “You know the little cavern among the rocks. The mouth is [167]almost closed, but I can find it. The water is in the back part of the ana. It is running water, but it disappears in the darkness. Perhaps it comes from Po; but no matter—it is sweet and good. Luahoomoe came to me last night, with his long, white hair smeared with blood, and told me he had sent the water there. It is for us alone. If others know of it or taste it, it will disappear. So we must be careful, Mamulu, very careful.”

Leaving the woman almost in a daze at the words thus spoken in rapid and excited sentences, Oluolu left the hut and started up the narrow valley. A walk of three or four minutes brought her to the entrance of an abrupt and chasm-like ravine gashing the hills on the right. To its almost precipitous sides clung overhanging masses of ragged volcanic rock, from the crevices of which a sturdy vegetation had taken root, and in time past gloomily shaded the narrow channel; but the interlacing branches of the trees were almost leafless, and all around were seen the footprints of death and desolation. Not a breath of wind cooled the sultry air, and no sound of living creature broke the silence of the heated hills. The mouth of the ravine was partially choked with huge boulders washed down by the freshets of centuries, and the ground was strewn with dead leaves and broken branches.

Casting her eyes around in every direction, to be sure that she was not observed, Oluolu quickly found a way over the boulders and ascended the ravine. Proceeding upward thirty or forty yards, and climbing a rocky bench, over which in seasons of rain had poured a little cascade, she stopped in front of an overhanging mass of vitreous rock, and the next moment disappeared in a stooping posture through a low opening almost concealed by decrepitations from above. The opening led to a cavern forty or fifty feet in depth, with an irregular width almost as great. The floor descended from the entrance, and was smooth and apparently water-worn. Two or three steps forward enabled her to stand upright; but all beyond was darkness, and for a moment she remained undecided which way to proceed. She heard a sound like that of a bare and cautious footstep on the smooth floor. She was startled, but suffering had made her desperate, and she listened again. The same sound continued, but it was mellowed into the soft murmur of waters somewhere back in the darkness, and with a swelling heart she groped her [168]way toward the silvery voice, sweeter to her than the strains of the ohe or the songs of birds.

Closer and closer she approached, every step making more distinct the joyful music, until at last she felt the spatter of cool water upon her bare feet. Stretching out her hand, it came in contact with a little stream gushing from the back wall of the cavern, and instantly disappearing where it fell upon a layer of loose gravel washed down from the entrance. She hastily drank from her palm, and found that the water was cool and sweet. Then she held the mouth of the calabash under the stream, and, after wetting her head and drinking until prudence counseled her to stop, refilled the vessel, cautiously emerged from the opening, and hastened back to the hut.

Hesitating without the door, to satisfy herself that no one had arrived during her absence, Oluolu noiselessly entered, and, stealing to the kapa-moe upon which Mamulu was half-deliriously dreaming, poured a quantity of water upon her head, and, as she opened her eyes with a bewildered stare, dropped a swallow into her parched and open mouth.

Half-rising, Mamulu dreamily felt of her dripping hair, and then stared vacantly at Oluolu, who stood smilingly beside her with the calabash in her hand. In a moment she recalled all that had occurred before she dropped into the troubled sleep from which she had been so strangely aroused.

“Then it is not a dream!” she murmured, clasping her wasted hands upon her breast. “The gods have sent us water!” And she reached for the calabash.

“No,” said Oluolu kindly, withdrawing the vessel. “We have plenty, but you are weak and would drink too much. Now lie down, with this roll of kapa under your head, and while I am giving you a swallow at a time I will tell you all about the water and how I found it.”

And so, slowly feeding Mamulu with the precious fluid, and at the same time bathing her head and throat, Oluolu related to her everything that had occurred.

“But will the stream continue?” anxiously inquired Mamulu. “Would it not be well to fill all the calabashes in the house, and all we can procure, and so keep them, that we may not be left without water should the stream disappear?”

“I think it would not be well to anger the gods by doubting [169]them,” replied Oluolu. “The water was sent, not to prolong our sufferings, but to save our lives; and I am sure it will continue so long as we guard the secret and allow no others to use it.”

Oluolu’s faith was rewarded. Without any diminution in volume the little stream continued to flow and sink in the darkness of the cavern until the wrath of the gods was appeased and the rains finally came again. But Oluolu and her companion could not subsist on water alone. The parched earth produced no food; but they did not despair. Every day they cautiously watered a little patch of mountain taro in the ravine above the cavern, and at intervals of four or five days went to the sea-shore and returned with fish, crabs, limpets and edible sea-weed.

And so they managed to live without suffering, while the valleys became almost depopulated, and all others in Hana were stricken with famine. They seldom saw a human face in their journeys to and from the sea, and never in the valley where they lived, and the few they met avoided them, fearful, no doubt, that the miserable means of subsistence to which they resorted might become known to others.

It was near the end of the terrible scourge that the district of Ewa, on the island of Oahu, became its victim. It followed the appearance there of a Hana chief and a few of his retainers, who had been driven from Molokai. At that time there lived at Waimalu, in the district of Ewa, the celebrated priest and prophet Naula-a-Maihea. No one in the Hawaiian priesthood of the past was ever more feared or respected. It was thought by some that he had visited the shadowy realms of Milu, and from Paliuli had brought back the waters of life. He must have been well on in years, for, as already mentioned, he is credited with having been the priest of Laa-mai-kahiki on the romantic journey of that prince from the southern islands.

In evidence of the great sanctity of Naula, tradition relates that his canoe was upset during a journey from Waianae, Oahu, to Kauai. He was swallowed by a whale, in whose stomach he remained without inconvenience until the monster crossed the channel and vomited him up alive on the beach at Waialua, [170]Kauai, the precise place of his destination. At another time, when crossing to Hawaii, and beset with adverse winds, two huge black sharks, sent by Mooalii, the shark-god of Molokai, towed him to Kohala so swiftly that the sea-birds could scarcely keep him company.

He built a heiau at Waimalu, the foundations of which may still be traced, and in the inner temple of the enclosure it is asserted that Lono conversed with him freely; and at his bidding the spirits of the living (kahaoka) as well as the shades of the dead (unihipili) made their appearance; for it was believed by the ancient Hawaiians that the spirits or souls of the living sometimes separated themselves from the body during slumber or while in a condition of trance, and became visible in distant places to priests of especial sanctity.

Consulting with the gods, Naula discovered the cause of the drought, and, becoming alarmed at the threatened destruction of the entire population of the group, undertook to stay the ravages of the spreading scourge. With a vision enlarged and intensified by sacrifice and prayer, he ascended the highest peak of the Waianae Mountains. Far as the eye could reach the skies were cloudless. He first looked toward Kaala, but discerned no sign of rain around its wooded summits. He turned toward Kauai, but not a cloud could be seen above the mountains of that island. Cloudless, also, were the mountains of Molokai. Finally, casting his eyes in the direction of Maui, he saw a small, dark spot like a rain-cloud hanging above the peak of Hanaula. “It may disappear,” he thought; “I will wait.” Midday came. He looked again, and the spot was still there. The sun grew red in the west. Again he looked and found that the cloud had neither disappeared nor moved. “Surely the sons of Luahoomoe are there,” he said to himself. “I will go to them; they will listen to me, and the waters will come again.”

Naula descended from the mountain, and the same night embarked alone in a canoe for Maui. He spread no sail, used no paddle, but all night his waa skimmed the waves with the speed of the wind, and at sunrise the next morning he landed at Makena, above which, a few miles inland, towered the peak of Hanaula, with the dark spot still hanging over it.

There, indeed, were the sons of Luahoomoe. Nurtured by the rains that had fallen alone on the peak of Hanaula, there [171]they had remained unseen for three and a half years, waiting for the wrath of the gods to be appeased and for a summons to descend. A strange light accompanied the canoe of Naula in the darkness. From their elevated retreat they noted it far out upon the ocean, and watched it growing brighter as it approached, until it went out on the beach at Makena. They knew it to be the signal of their deliverance, and hastened down the mountain to meet the messenger of the gods. One account says they met Naula at Kula; but the meeting occurred not far from the Makena landing, where the priest, inspired with a knowledge of their coming, awaited their arrival. As they approached, the venerable kahuna, his white hair and beard falling to his waist and a tabu staff in his hand, advanced to meet them. They bowed respectfully, and, returning the salutation, Naula said:

“I know you to be the sons of Luahoomoe, whose death by the hands of Hua, King of Hana, has been avenged by the gods upon the people of all the islands of Hawaii. The earth is still parched, and thousands are seeking in vain for food and water. Hua is dead; his bones lie unburied in the sun. Scattered or dead are the people of Hana; their lands are yellow, and their springs and streams yield nothing but dust and ashes. Great was the crime of Hua, and great has been the punishment. I am Naula-a-Maihea, the high-priest of Oahu, and have come to ask, with you, that the gods may be merciful and no longer scourge the people.”

At the mention of his name the sons of Luahoomoe bowed low before the aged prophet of whose sanctity report had years before apprised them, and then Kaakakai replied:

“Great priest, willingly will we add our voices to your supplication to the gods, whose vengeance has indeed been terrible. But since our retreat was revealed to you and nothing seems to be hidden from your understanding, let me ask if you know aught of the fate of Oluolu. She was my wife, and I left her in a little valley in the mountains back of Hana. I loved her greatly, and am grieved with the fear that she is dead.”

Without replying the priest seated himself upon the ground, and, unbinding the kihei from his shoulders, threw it over his head, shutting the light from his face. While one hand pressed the mantle closely to his breast, the other held to his forehead what seemed to be a talisman of stone suspended by a short [172]cord from his neck. He remained motionless in that position for some minutes; then throwing off the kihei and rising to his feet, he turned to Kaakakai and said:

“I was not wrong in my thought. The presence here of the sons of Luahoomoe has sanctified the spot to communion with the spirits of the air. Oluolu, alone with a woman much her elder, still lives where you left her and hopefully awaits the coming of Kaakakai—for such I now know to be your name. The spirit of Luahoomoe has nourished and protected her.”

“Great Naula, most favored of the gods!” exclaimed Kaakakai, grasping the hand of the priest. “You have made my heart glad! Now ask of me what you will!”

On the very spot from which the priest had risen they proceeded to erect a rude altar of stones. When it was completed Naula brought from his canoe a combined image of the godhead—the Oie of the early priesthood—and a small enclosed calabash of holy water—ka-wai-kapu-a-Kane. Removing the kapa covering, the image was placed beside the altar, and while the priest recited the solemn kaiokopeo, or prayer of consecration, Kaakakai intoned the invocation and continued at intervals to sprinkle the altar with holy water.

The dedication ceremonies were at length concluded; but what was there to offer as a sacrifice? The hills were bare and parched. Far as the eye could reach the lands were deserted, and no living thing beside themselves was visible. Suddenly there appeared among the leafless shrubbery near them a large black hog sacred to sacrifice. The brothers exchanged looks of wonder, but the priest did not seem to be greatly surprised. The animal was immediately seized, killed and placed upon the altar, and sacrificial prayers were devoutly offered.

In the midst of these services a wind set in from the south. Black clouds began to gather, from which the answering voice of thunder came, and then a gentle rain began to fall upon the sere and hungry earth. Raising his face into the baptism, Naula with emotion exclaimed:

“The sacrifice is accepted! The gods are merciful, and the people are saved!”

And the rains continued, not there alone but all over the islands, until the grass grew green again and the banana put forth its shoots. Everywhere the rejoicing was great. The [173]people returned to their deserted lands, and the valleys of Hana, even, blossomed as before. But Hua and his family had perished from the earth, and a new dynasty came into being to claim the sovereignty of eastern Maui.

The sons of the martyred Luahoomoe returned at once to Hana, and in the arms of Kaakakai the brave and faithful Oluolu recited the story of her sufferings and deliverance. With largely-augmented possessions Kaakakai became the high-priest under the new régime, and for generations his descendants continued to be among the most influential of the families of eastern Maui. Kaanahua became the god of the husbandman.

The political events immediately following the death of Hua are but vaguely referred to by tradition, and the few particulars known doubtless owe their preservation to the care taken by the priesthood—to which class the historians of the past usually belonged—to bring down, with all its terrible details, the fate of Hua, as a warning to succeeding sovereigns who might be disposed to trespass upon the sacred domain of the spiritual rulers who, in a measure, divided the allegiance of their subjects. [175]

THE IRON KNIFE.

A LEGEND OF THE FIRST WAR FOR THE CONQUEST OF THE GROUP.

Two or three attempts to consolidate under one general government the several islands of the Hawaiian group were made by ambitious and war-like chiefs previous to the final accomplishment of the project, at the close of the last century, by Kamehameha I.; but all these early schemes of conquest and aggrandizement proved unsuccessful, and were especially unfortunate in affording excuses for retaliatory raids and invasions, sometimes extending, with more or less persistency and bitterness, to generations thereafter.

The most disastrous of these ambitious ventures was the first, and connected with it were a number of strange and dramatic incidents, giving to the story of the enterprise something more than a historic interest. It occurred in about A.D. 1260, and the bold warrior who attempted it was Kalaunuiohua, king of the island of Hawaii. He was the grandson of Kalapana, who reconquered the kingdom from Kamaiole, the usurper, as related in the story of “The Royal Hunchback.”

At that time Kamaluohua, the seventh in descent from Paumakua, was the moi of Maui, or rather of the western and greater part of the island. Huapouleilei, the eighth in line from Maweke, was the alii-nui of Oahu, his possessions embracing the districts of Ewa, Waianae and Waialua, while the Koolau and Kona divisions were ruled, respectively, by Moku-a-Loe and Kahuoi. The moi of Molokai was Kahokuohua, the fourth in descent in the old Nanaula line from Keoloewa, the brother of Kaupeepee, the abductor of Hina and desperate defender of the fortress of Haupu, as told in the legend of “Hina, the Hawaiian Helen.” Kukona was the sovereign of Kauai. He was the great-grandson of Ahukini-a-Laa, one of the three sons of the three wives of Laa-mai-kahiki, as mentioned in the story of “The Triple Marriage of Laa-mai-kahiki.” [178]

The contemporary rulers of the several islands are thus referred to for the reason that they all appear as prominent actors in the several legends from which have been gathered the historic features of the story about to be related, and also for the purpose of keeping partially in view the conspicuous and succeeding representatives of the sovereign families of the group.

Kalaunuiohua—or, as he will be called hereafter, Kalaunui—inherited something of the military spirit of his warlike grandfather, and is referred to by tradition as an ambitious and aggressive sovereign, courageous in enterprise, but lacking in judgment and discretion. This estimate of his character is abundantly sustained by the record of his acts.

Waipio had been made the focus of sovereign authority by Kahaimoelea, the royal father of Kalaunui, and continued to be the most attractive and consequential point in the kingdom. The royal grounds and edifices had been enlarged and improved from time to time, until barbaric taste and skill seemed to be able to add nothing more to their grandeur or beauty. Not far from the royal mansion was the great heiau of Pakaalani, partially built by Kalapana, and completed by his successor. Its tabus were the most sacred on Hawaii, and a descendant of Paao officiated there as high-priest. It was connected with the palace enclosure by a sacred stone pavement, which it was death for any but royal and privileged feet to touch, and on its walls were over a hundred gods.

Kalaunui was proud of his ancestry, which carried back his lineage both to Pili and Maweke, and united in his veins the foremost blood of the pioneers of the fifth and eleventh centuries. He had two children—a son named Kuaiwa, and a daughter, Kapapa, whose full name was Kapapalimulimu. At the time of which we are writing she was fifteen, and her brother was three or four years older. Both had been carefully reared. The son had been instructed in all the manly accomplishments of the time, and from her infancy the daughter had been guarded with the most jealous watchfulness. She had grown almost to womanhood without betrothal, for the reason that a husband suited to her rank and personally deserving of her beauty could with difficulty be found in the kingdom.

Among the number of the king’s retainers of various grades of rank—beginning with the wohi, or chief counsellor of royal [179]blood next to the throne, and ending with the kahu-alii and puuku, or personal and other attendants at the palace—was the young chief Kualu. He was large, muscular and handsome, with a bearing indicative of good blood, and through his courage and capacity at arms had been raised to the military position of pukaua, or captain, and placed in charge of the palace guard—an office which gave him, if he did not before possess it, the privilege of an aialo, or the right to eat food in the presence of the king.

Kualu was a chief without possessions. His grandfather, a chief of the old line of Nanaula, had been killed in the battle which restored Kalapana to the throne of his fathers, and on the sudden death of his father, twenty years before, he had been adopted by Waahia, a kaula, or prophetess, renowned in tradition for her foresight and influence. He was recognized by the Aha-alii, or college of chiefs of established lineage, as of noble blood, but belonged to that class of chiefs who, lacking the influence of family and estates, were compelled to rely upon their own efforts for advancement.

Although it is claimed that Waahia was of chiefly lineage, nothing is positively known, even of her parents. She first appeared in Waipio more than a generation before, and, through an almost undeviating verification of her prophecies, in time became noted and feared by the people, not only as a favored devotee of Uli, the god of the sorcerers, but as a medium through whom the unipihili, or spirits of the dead, communicated. She lived alone in a hut in a retired part of the valley of Waipio, and it is said that a large pueo, or owl, which, with the white alae, was sacred and sometimes worshipped, came nightly and perched upon the roof of her lonely habitation.

Of course a kaula of her sanctity wanted for nothing. The people were only too happy to leave at her door anything of which she might stand in need, and the best of everything in the valley came unbidden to her board. Of her abundance she gave to the needy, and, while she seldom spoke to any one, her looks and acts were kind to all. The priesthood recognized her power, and the king and chiefs consulted her in matters of moment when the kilos of the temple were in doubt.

She had reared Kualu with the greatest care, and saw him grow to a manhood of which she was proud. She loved him as if he had been her own child, and he repaid her affection by [180]heeding her advice in all things, and by kindness comforting her declining years. She had schooled him in a lore which but few possessed, and the most skilful had instructed him in the martial and courtly accomplishments consistent with his chiefly rank. At the age of twenty he became attached to the household of the king, and in time was advanced, as already stated, to the high grade of captain of the palace guard. Although his abilities had commended him to advancement, his early favor with the king was doubtless due to some extent to the influence of his foster-mother.

Kualu’s intimate connection with the royal household brought him into frequent companionship with Kuaiwa and his sister, and as the latter grew to womanhood a romantic attachment sprang up between her and the handsome captain of the guard. It was romantic only because it was to every appearance hopeless, for there was a wide gulf between Kualu and the daughter of the proudest moi in all the group, and for whom there seemed to be no fitting mate.

The home of Kualu was within the palace enclosure; yet he frequently visited Waahia in her lonely retreat, to cheer her with words of affection and see that she wanted for nothing. It was during one of these visits, not long before the beginning of the leading events of this legend, that the kaula abruptly said to him:

“Kualu, I can see that you are thinking much of Kapapa.”

“We sometimes meet,” replied Kualu, evasively.

“It is not well for you to try to gather berries from the clouds,” returned the kaula, kindly. “A niapio of the highest rank alone can reach that fruit.”

“The flying spear brings down what the hand cannot reach,” was Kualu’s significant answer.

Waahia smiled at the dauntless spirit of her ward, and after a long pause, during which she sat thoughtfully, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, said:

“Your hopes are bold, but the gods are great. Come to me to-morrow.”

The next day Kualu was made joyful by the words of Waahia. She told him that she had been given a view of something of his future, and that the auguries promised so much that she could not discourage even the most audacious of his aspirations; but [181]that coming events affecting his life were so mingled with wars, and strange faces of a race she had never seen except in dreams, that she could then advise no definite course of action.

With these vague words of encouragement Kualu returned to the palace, and authoritatively learned, what had for some time been rumored, that preparations were to be speedily made for an invasion of Maui, and possibly of the other islands of the group. Having brought all the districts of Hawaii under his control, Kalaunui entertained the ambitious design of uniting the several islands of the archipelago under one government. In this grand scheme of conquest and consolidation he was sustained by the leading chiefs of Hawaii, hungering for foreign possessions, and large quotas of canoes and warriors were promised.

A general plan of action having been adopted, a fleet of two thousand canoes of all sizes and an army of twelve thousand warriors were speedily collected. Sacrifices were made at the great temple of Pakaalani; the favor of the gods was invoked, and the auguries were satisfactory. The king was to lead the expedition in person, and the chivalry of the kingdom rallied to his support. His double canoe, nearly forty paces in length, was gorgeous in royal colors and trappings, and more than a hundred others bore at their mast-heads the ensigns of distinguished chiefs. No such warlike display had been seen by the generation witnessing it, and the confidence and enthusiasm of the king and his commanding officers were fully shared by the people.

Leaving the government in the hands of his young son Kuaiwa, with Kaheka, the queen-mother, as principal adviser, Kalaunui ordered the warriors to their canoes, and with his aids and personal attendants repaired to the beach to superintend the departure of the expedition in person. In charge of his high-priest, his newly-decorated war-god had been taken aboard, and the king was about to follow, when Waahia, whose foster-son was one of the leaders in the enterprise, approached the royal kaulua. She was clad in a pau and short mantle, and her long, white hair fell below her shoulders. Her form was bent, and she carried a staff for support.

At the sight of the venerable figure, familiar to every one in Waipio, the king turned and said:

“I am glad you are here. Encouragement comes from the temple. What says Waahia?” [182]

“Good in the beginning! bad in the end!” was the blunt response of the prophetess.

“I am instructed by your cheering assurances,” adroitly returned the king, observing that her words had been overheard. “The true meaning is that it would be bad to abruptly end a good beginning.” Saying which, with something of a scowl he hastily stepped into his kaulua and gave the signal for departure.

Without replying, Waahia, fully believing that disaster would overtake the expedition in the end, and anxious to be near Kualu when it came, entered one of the many canoes set apart for the women and other camp-followers of the invading army, and with the fleet set sail for Maui.

While the Hawaiian army, cheered by chants of battle and beating of war-drums, is buffeting the waves on its way to Maui, let us glance again at the moi of that island and the political condition of his possessions. While Kamaluohua was the nominal sovereign of the island, the extreme eastern portion of it continued to be governed by independent chiefs. The principal chief of the windward side was Wakalana, whose residence was at Wailuku. He was a cousin of the moi, and their relations were exceedingly friendly.

Two years before a remarkable event had occurred at Wailuku. It was the second appearance in the group of a vessel bearing people of a strange race, described by tradition as “white, with bright, shining eyes.” Mention is made of other white people who were brought to the islands on one or more occasions by the argonauts of earlier generations, notably by Paumakua, of Oahu, who near the close of the eleventh century returned from one of his exploring voyages with three white persons of an unknown race; but this was the second time that a vessel of a people other than Polynesian had been seen in Hawaiian waters. The first made a landing near Makapu Point, on the island of Oahu, more than a hundred years before. Tradition has preserved the name of the vessel (Ulupana) and of the captain (Mololano) and his wife (Malaea); but as it is not mentioned that they remained in the country, it is probable that they soon re-embarked. [183]

The second arrival is more distinctly marked by tradition. It was a Japanese vessel that had been dismantled by a typhoon, driven toward the North American coast until it encountered the northwest trade-winds, and then helplessly blown southward to the coast of Maui. It was late in the afternoon that word had been brought to Wakalana that a strange vessel was approaching the coast. As it was high out of water and drifting broadside before the wind, it appeared to be of great size, and little disposition was shown by the people to go out in their canoes to meet the mysterious monster. Wakalana hastened to the beach, and, after watching the vessel intently for some time, saw that it was drifting slowly toward the rocky coast to the westward. Seaman enough to know that certain destruction awaited it in that direction, Wakalana hastily manned a stout canoe and started out to sea in pursuit. The waters were rough and his progress was slow, but he succeeded in reaching the vessel a few minutes after it struck the cliffs and was dashed in pieces. Seizing whatever they could find to assist them in floating, those on board leaped into the sea. It was hazardous to approach the wreck too nearly, but Wakalana succeeded in rescuing from the waves and returning to Wailuku with five persons, but not before he saw the last fragment of the wreck disappear in the abyss of raging waters.

There is nothing in the names preserved, either of the vessel or its rescued passengers, to indicate their nationality. The name of the vessel is given as Mamala, which in the Hawaiian might mean a wreck or fragment. The name of the captain was Kaluikia-Manu; the four others were called Neleike, Malaea, Haakoa and Hika—all names of Hawaiian construction. Two of them—Neleike and Malaea—were women, the former being the sister of the captain.

They landed almost without clothing, and the only novelties upon their persons were the rings and bracelets of the women, and a sword in the belt of the captain, with which he had thoughtlessly leaped into the sea from the sinking vessel. They were half-famished and weak, and by gestures expressed their gratitude to Wakalana for his gallantry in rescuing them, and asked for food and water. Both were provided in abundance, and two houses were set apart for their occupation. They attracted great attention, and people came from all parts of the [184]island to see the white strangers. It was noted with astonishment by the natives that these men and women ate from the same vessels, and that nothing was especially tabu to either sex; but Wakalana explained that their gods doubtless permitted such freedom, and they should therefore not be rebuked for their apparent disregard of Hawaiian custom.

The comfort of the strangers was made the especial care of Wakalana, and they soon became not only reconciled but apparently content with their situation. But the kindness of the chief, however commendable, was not altogether unselfish. He was charmed with the bright eyes and fair face of Neleike, the sister of the captain. He found a pleasure that was new to him in teaching her to speak his language, and almost the first use she made of oia was to say “yes” with it when he asked her to become his wife. Her marriage was followed by that of Malaea to a native chief, and of her brother and his two male companions to native women of good family. And here, as well as anywhere, it may be mentioned that, through her son Alooia, Neleike became the progenitor of a family which for generations showed the marks of her blood, and that the descendants of the others were plentiful thereafter, not only on Maui but in the neighborhood of Waimalo, on the island of Oahu.

The object of the rescued Japanese which attracted most attention was the sword accidentally preserved by the captain. No such terrible knife had ever before been seen or dreamed of by the natives. They had pahoas, or daggers of wood or ivory, and knives of sharply broken flint and sharks’ teeth; they had stone adzes, axes, hatchets and hammers, with which they could fell trees, hollow canoes from tree-trunks, build houses, manufacture implements of war and industry, and hew stone of softer composition; they had spears and javelins with points of seasoned wood hard enough to splinter a bone; but iron and other metals had for ages been practically unknown to their race, and the long, sharp sword of the captain, harder than bone or seasoned wood, and from its polished surface throwing defiantly back the bright rays of the sun, engaged their ceaseless wonder and admiration. As an ornament they regarded it with longing, and when they learned that it was a weapon of war they felt that the arm that wielded it in battle must be unconquerable.

The captain did not see fit to disabuse the minds of the superstitious [185]natives in their disposition to attribute a power of almost unlimited slaughter to the simple weapon. On the contrary, he rarely exhibited it except to distinguished chiefs, and in a few months it began to be mentioned as a sacred gift of the gods and pledge of victory to him who possessed it. Nor was the knowledge of the existence of a talisman so wonderful long confined to the windward side of Maui. The fame of the terrible weapon spread from Hana to Kaanapali, and thence to the other islands of the group; and if but few of the many who came to learn the truth of the report were favored with a view of the sword, all saw, at least, the strange people who were pointed out as the bearers of it from an unknown land, and the story of its powers was readily accepted. But he who possessed it did not come as a conqueror, and, as he showed no disposition to use it offensively, the weapon ceased to be regarded with alarm.

And now we will return to Kalaunui and his army of conquest, last seen on their way to Maui in a fleet of two thousand canoes. Sailing to the western division of the island, which was reached in two days, Kalaunui effected a landing of his army at Lahaina. Kamaluohua, the moi of the island, had learned of the projected invasion some days before, and made every preparation possible to meet and repel it. Lunapais, or war-messengers, had been despatched to the several district chiefs, and an army of seven or eight thousand warriors of all arms had been hastily collected. Wakalana had gone to the general defence with a force of eight hundred men, including Kaluiki, the Japanese captain, upon whose presence great reliance was placed by the warriors of Wailuku, if not by Wakalana himself.

Unable to land at Lahaina, which was in possession of the enemy, Kamaluohua marched his forces across the mountains, and a sanguinary battle was fought in the neighborhood of the village. But the Mauians, greatly outnumbered, were defeated and driven back to the hills, and their king was taken prisoner. Throughout the battle Kualu was especially conspicuous for his might and courage. Armed with a huge stone axe, everything human seemed to fall before him, and where he led the bravest alone followed, for he sought the very heart of danger.

The conflict was drawing to a close. The moi, gallantly fighting, had been taken prisoner, and his decimated battalions were steadily giving way, when Kualu encountered a body of [186]two or three hundred men resolutely defending themselves behind a low stone wall. Several ineffectual attempts to dislodge them had been made, and they were sending forth shouts of victory and defiance. Something had inspired them with unusual courage and confidence. Did Kualu divine what it was? Perhaps he did, for, hastily rallying to his support a force of sturdy warriors, he fought his way over the wall, and a determined hand-to-hand struggle followed. Meantime a flanking party of spearsmen had made a circuit around the wall and were menacing its defenders in the rear. Observing the peril of the situation, and that an effort was being made to cut off their retreat to the hills, the Mauians began to fall back. As they did so Kualu was seen to dash forward and precipitate himself, almost unsupported, upon a score or two of warriors who had apparently rallied to the assistance of some chief in distress. Regardless of danger, he hewed his way through the battling throng until he stood face to face with Kaluiki, the white captain, in whose hand was the shining blade which had so nerved the arms of the warriors of Wailuku. With a blow of his battle-axe he struck the sword from the upraised hand of the strange warrior. As it fell to the earth he placed his foot upon it, and yielded no ground until the tide of battle swept around and past him, forcing to retreat the last to present a hostile front of the army of the captive king of Maui.

Left alone for a moment by the wild pursuit of the flying enemy, Kualu hurriedly stooped and thrust the sword into the earth, pressing it downward until the hilt was covered; then, placing a large rock upon the spot, he left the field, numbering, as he went, his paces to the wall behind which the Mauians had sought protection.

The victory was complete. The moi was a prisoner, and such of his army as had not escaped to the hills lay dead on the field. The country was given over to pillage, and at sunset twenty prisoners were slain and sacrificed in a heiau near the village. The sacrifices were made to his war-god, and Kalaunui witnessed the solemn ceremonies of the offering.

The night was spent in the wildest revelry by the victorious warriors, in the midst of which Kualu sought his foster-mother, who, with the women and non-combatants of the invading army, was encamped near the canoes on the beach. He hastily recited [187]to her the events of the day, and concluded with the information that he had captured the long, bright knife of the strange chief of Wailuku, and, believing it to be of great value, had hidden it in the earth. At this intelligence the eyes of Waahia flashed with satisfaction.

“You have done well,” said the kaula, rising to her feet. “I have seen that long knife in my dreams. It will have much to do with your future. But it will be unsafe in your possession. Give it to me. Give it to me at once,” she repeated, “for should Kalaunui by any chance learn that it was taken in battle, he will claim it.”

“But I am sure no one saw me hide it,” replied Kualu.

“You talk like a boy,” returned Waahia. “You must be sure of nothing of which there is a possibility of doubt. But no matter. It is not too dark to find the spot to-night. Let us go to it at once.”

Excited by her words, Kualu now became no less anxious than the kaula that the sword should be placed in her keeping, and in an indirect way, to avoid observation, they repaired to the battle-field. Their only light was that of the stars, and after reaching the wall it was some time before Kualu was able to identify the exact place to which he had extended the line of his hasty measurement. The ground was strewn with the naked bodies of the slain, and occasional groans came from a few whose struggles with death were not quite over. But no emotion, either of dread or pity, disturbed the visitors.

Satisfied at length that he had found the desired place in the wall, Kualu took a careful bearing, and then stepped briskly toward the north, closely followed by Waahia. Measuring a hundred paces or more, he suddenly stopped, and with alarm discovered what seemed to be the form of a man crouching beside the rock marking the spot where the sword had been buried. Grasping his pahoa—the only weapon he had brought with him—Kualu sprang forward and placed his hand upon the object. It was cold and motionless; and the young warrior smiled as the thought came to him that some one of the many who had fallen under his axe that day had possibly crawled to the spot to guard his treasure in death. He lifted the body aside, removed the stone, and the next moment pulled from the earth and handed to Waahia the iron blade. She grasped it eagerly, and, with a [188]hasty glance at its bright blade glistening in the starlight, wrapped it securely in a piece of kapa and placed it under her mantle.

Without attracting especial notice they returned to the beach. When importuned by Kualu to tell him something definite of his future, Waahia revealed to him much that would happen; but all had not yet been given to her, and she admonished him to keep his lips closed and patiently await the development of the will of the gods. “I can see victories to come,” said the kaula, “but in the end defeat and disaster.”

“But if disaster is to come to us in the end,” suggested Kualu, “why should it not mean defeat and death to me?”

“I can give no reason why it should not; but the gods seldom explain their acts to mortals, and I am content in seeing your star shining above the ruin of Kalaunui.”

So spoke the kaula, and, cheered by her words, Kualu sought his tent of mats, and on a hard couch of kapa dreamed of a long, bright knife, and of battles in which he hewed down armies with it.

Taking his royal captive with him, the second day after the battle Kalaunui set sail with his army for the island of Molokai, of which Kahokuohua was the alii-nui, or governing chief. No force adequate to cope with the invading army could be rallied; but the chivalrous descendant of the ancient kings of Hawaii was not a ruler to allow his subjects to be plundered without resistance, and, hastily gathering an army of four or five thousand warriors, he gave the invaders battle at Kalaupapa. But he was defeated and taken prisoner, and after ravaging the country for miles around, and destroying every captured canoe of which he could make no use, Kalaunui sailed for the conquest of Oahu with the two royal captives in his train.

Waahia still accompanied the expedition. But the iron knife was not with her. The king had from some source learned that its glitter had been seen on the battle-field at Lahaina, and she had hidden it in a cleft of the black rocks of the pali encircling Kalaupapa.

As already stated, Oahu was at that time governed by a number of practically independent chiefs. The most powerful of these, and possibly recognized alii-nui of the island, was Huapouleilei, chief of the Ewa and Waianae districts, to which division Kalaunui directed his fleet. Landing his forces at [189]Waianae, a sanguinary battle was fought near that place, resulting in the defeat of the Oahuans and the capture of Huapouleilei.

Elated with his successes, and deeming himself invincible, Kalaunui next prepared for a descent upon Kauai and the conquest of the entire group. But his plans for so formidable an undertaking were faulty. He took no steps to consolidate his conquests or maintain possession of the lands subdued by his arms. He left behind him no friend or stronghold on the conquered islands, blindly trusting, no doubt, that in the persons of his royal prisoners he retained, for the time being, a sufficiently firm hold upon their lands and subjects.

Before embarking for Kauai elaborate sacrifices were offered, and every device known to the priesthood was exhausted to secure a continuance of the favor of the gods. The moi of that island was Kukona, the fourth in descent from the great Laa-mai-kahiki. Kalaunui recognized that the defensive resources of Kauai were not to be despised, but he as greatly underrated the military abilities of Kukona as he overrated his own, and therefore did not doubt the result.

Waahia saw disaster approaching, but knew that Kalaunui would not listen to her voice of warning, and therefore remained silent when the kilos, anxious to please the king, shaped their inauspicious auguries into promises of victory. Her greatest solicitude was for Kualu. He had been entrusted with an important command, and could find no honorable pretext for declining to accept the hazard of the final struggle on Kauai. Waahia, therefore, did not advise him to remain, for she had seen his star shining above the clouds of defeat. She had sought frequent and earnest counsel of the mysterious intelligences of the earth and air. She had seen their answers in the smoke of burning incense, and within the circle of blood at midnight, when the moon was dark, had heard their whispers. Hence it was with confidence that she said to Kualu, on the evening before the departure of the fleet for Kauai:

“Yes, you must go. I can be of no service to you where the air will be filled with spears and the canoes will be painted red with blood. I will return to Hawaii. You will be defeated. Kukona is a brave and skilful warrior, and the army of Kalaunui. will be rent in pieces and thrown into the sea. The slaughter [190]will be great, but circumstances will open a way and you will escape.”

“And should I escape, where will I find you?” inquired Kualu.

“Among the owls in the old hut in Waipio,” replied the kaula.

“And the long knife?”

“The long knife is where I alone can find it,” answered Waahia. “Leave the secret to me; it will be of service to us yet.”

Early next morning the army of Kalaunui set sail for Kauai, and with it, as prisoners, the mois of Maui and Molokai and the alii-nui of Oahu. At the same time Waahia embarked for Hawaii, taking with her the war-god of the king. Traditions differ concerning the circumstances under which the god was delivered to the prophetess. One asserts that she refused to hold her peace or leave the expedition without it; another that the king, annoyed by her ill-omened words and presence, purchased her departure with it; and a third that it was given to her in deference to her declaration that, if taken to Kauai, it would not return except at the head of a conquering army that would make a tributary kingdom of Hawaii. Certain it is, however, that Waahia returned to Hawaii from Oahu with the war-god of the king. It was the sacred Akuapaao, or war-god of Paao, and was held in great reverence by the priesthood. Borne over the waters by unseen forces, the canoe of Waahia was stranded on the beach at Koholalele, on the island of Hawaii. Not far off was the old heiau of Manini, and thither the god was conveyed, and placed in the custody of the high-priest of the temple, with the injunction that it was never to be removed from the inner court, or sanctuary, unless the kingdom was in peril. Six generations after it was taken from the heiau by the giant Maukaleoleo, and carried at the head of the victorious army of Umi, as mentioned in the legend of “Umi, the Peasant Prince of Hawaii.”

Five hundred canoes had been added to the fleet of Kalaunui, and the imposing squadron seemed to stretch half across the wide channel separating the two islands. A landing was made at Koloa, and the entire army disembarked without opposition. The district seemed to be deserted, and not a hostile spear was visible. And so continued the peaceful aspect until daylight the next morning, when Kukona, supported by every prominent chief of [191]Kauai, suddenly precipitated upon the invaders from the surrounding hills an army of ten thousand warriors. Nor this alone. Along the westward coast was seen approaching a fleet of nearly a thousand war-canoes, with the manifest design of capturing or destroying the canoes of the Hawaiians and cutting off their retreat by sea. Hastily forming his lines to meet the avalanche from the hills, Kalaunui despatched Kualu to the beach with a force of three thousand warriors to protect the canoes.

The attacks by land and sea were almost simultaneous, and the battle was one of the most stubborn and sanguinary ever fought in the group. As predicted by Waahia, the air was filled with spears and the canoes were painted red with blood. Standing in the water to their hips, Kualu and his warriors met their enemies as they attempted to land, and a struggle of the wildest description followed. Canoes were upset; men were hauled into them and killed, and out of them and drowned, and for a distance of three or four hundred yards in the surf along the beach raged a desperate conflict, dreadful even to savage eyes. In their fury they fought in, above and under the water, and hundreds fiercely grappled and without a wound sank to their deaths together. Neither would yield, and in the end resistance ceased, and Kualu saw the beach strewn with dead, a thousand tenantless canoes idly playing with the surf, and less than as many hundreds of warriors left as he had led thousands into the fight. He had saved the fleet, but the sacrifice of life had been terrible.

Despatching a messenger to the king, and speedily reorganizing the remnant of his force, Kualu was about to leave the beach for service where he might most be needed, when he discovered, with horror, that the Hawaiian army had been defeated, and in scattered fragments was seeking flight in all directions. Harassed by pursuit, a thousand or more were fighting and struggling to reach the beach. Satisfied that the battle was lost, to facilitate the escape of the fugitives Kualu ordered a large number of canoes to be hastily equipped and launched, and then started back to assist in covering the retreat. But his men refused to follow him. Knowing the danger of delay, all but a few of them leaped into canoes and paddled out to sea. As he could do nothing more, he selected a canoe suitable to the four persons who were to occupy it, and with his three remaining companions passed through the surf and headed for Oahu. [192]

Kualu did not escape a moment too soon. He had scarcely stemmed the surf before the fugitives, abandoning all defence, made a precipitate dash for the canoes, closely followed by their pursuers. In their haste they shoved out in canoes some of which were overburdened and others but half-manned. A number of the former foundered in the surf, and such of the latter as succeeded in passing the breakers were overtaken by the canoes sent in pursuit. Nor did but few escape of the two or three hundred who preceded Kualu in his flight. Some of them embarked in double canoes which they were unable to manage, and others were either without sails or short of paddles. The result was that less than a hundred of the fugitives escaped capture, and of that number probably not more than twenty or thirty succeeded in reaching the other islands of the group, for the sea was rough and but few of them were skilled in navigation. Among these were Kualu and his companions.

Almost from the beginning the sudden attack of Kukona from the hills had been a slaughter. The withdrawal of three thousand spears for the protection of his canoes had weakened the lines of Kalaunui at an exposed point, and, breaking through them, the Kauaians so vigorously followed up the advantage that no effort could save the Hawaiians from defeat. They fought bravely and with desperation; but the breaking of their lines had left them without any definite plan of action, and defeat was inevitable. Kalaunui’s courage was conspicuous, but after an hour’s hopeless struggle he saw his brave battalions melting to the earth and giving way at all points. Recognizing that the battle was lost, and that what was left of his army would soon be in wild retreat, he attempted to cut his way through to the beach, but was intercepted and taken prisoner. Learning his rank, he was taken by his captors to Kukona, and a few minutes later the royal chiefs of Maui, Molokai and Oahu, with their arms corded behind their backs, appeared on the scene. Deserted by their guards, they had been found in a hut not far from the beach and brought to the victorious moi.

It was a historic group, that meeting on the battle-field of Koloa of the five principal sovereigns of the archipelago. Had Kukona been ambitious the means were at his command to become the supreme head of the island group; but he thought only of the future peace of Kauai, and promptly dismissed from [193]his mind all dreams of broader fields of empire, well knowing that, were he able to seize the mastery of the group, he could not hope to long maintain it.

Not a word of jeering or of triumph passed between Kalaunui and the captive chiefs as they stood before Kukona, for the aha alii of the period—the chiefs of accepted rank—commanded the respect, not only of the untitled, but of each other, even in bondage and in death. Kukona had met the alii-nui of Oahu in his own dominions some years before, and recognized him at once, but the kings of Maui and Molokai were strangers to him. Being informed of their rank and the circumstances of their captivity, he ordered them to be liberated at once, and with his own hands removed the cords from the arms of his royal friend from Oahu.

The rescued princes were at once returned with befitting escorts to their own possessions, but Kalaunui was retained as a prisoner of war. But few of the invading army escaped. The victory was celebrated with elaborate sacrifices and general rejoicing throughout the island. The captured arms and canoes were divided among the assisting chiefs, and peace reigned again on Kauai.

Kukona had secured the lasting friendship of the chiefs of Oahu, Maui and Molokai, and therefore did not fear the retaliation of Hawaii. But, as a guarantee of peace, he kept Kalaunui a prisoner, rightly surmising that, if the ruling powers of Hawaii really valued the life of the captive king, they would not imperil it by attempting his release by force, and if they did not greatly value it he would be left to his fate or the chances of peaceful negotiation.

Escaping from Koloa, Kualu and his companions made sail for Hawaii, stopping for supplies at such intermediate points as they deemed safe on the coasts of Oahu, Molokai and Maui, and on the evening of the sixth day arrived at Waipio. They were the first to bring to Hawaii the news of the defeat of Kalaunui on Kauai, and when the people learned that the army had been destroyed the land was filled with wailing.

Appearing at once before Kaheka and her son, Kualu recited to them the story of the dreadful battle, but was unable [194]to tell them definitely of the fate of Kalaunui. The grief of the queen was great, and found strange and unreasonable expression in charging Kualu with cowardice and ordering him from the palace. In vain he protested against the ungenerous treatment. She had never liked him, especially since discovering that he had secured something more than the good-will of Kapapa, and it seemed monstrous to her that he should have survived Kalaunui and the scores of gallant chiefs who fell with him. She cruelly intimated that it was more than probable that, with the force sent to protect the fleet, he had embarked in the canoes without striking a blow, thus treacherously depriving the defeated army of its sole means of escape.

Had these monstrous charges been made by a man Kualu would have answered them with blows; but, as they were the foolish and inconsiderate ravings of a woman, without venturing further reply he took his leave, and with a heart filled with stifled rage and anguish strode from the palace.

Proceeding up the valley, Kualu entered the hut of Waahia. He found the kaula alone, as usual. She knew he was coming, but was none the less rejoiced to meet him. With a word or two of greeting he sat down in silence. The cruel words of Kaheka still stuck like thorns in his throat. Waahia regarded him intently for a time, and then said:

“I know it all. Kalaunui’s army has been destroyed. You escaped in a canoe with three others.”

“And Kalaunui?” questioned Kualu, not a little amazed at the correctness of her information.

“Is a prisoner,” replied the kaula.

“Thank the gods for that!” exclaimed the chief vehemently. “He must be liberated, for he can tell her that in escaping I acted neither with cowardice nor treachery!”

“Tell whom?” inquired the kaula.

“Kaheka,” answered Kualu. “She charges me with cowardice and desertion.”

“Then Kaheka accuses you of what I know to be false!” said Waahia.

“Yes,” returned the chief; “but the witnesses to my fidelity are few and humble, and the words of the king can alone relieve me in the eyes of the aha alii of the disgrace with which the charges of Kaheka will cover me.” [195]

“True,” replied the kaula, encouragingly; “but the disgrace will not be lasting, for the king will return to do you justice.”

“When will he return?” eagerly inquired the chief.

“I cannot tell,” answered Waahia; “but I know that his rule is not yet at an end in Hawaii, and you must be patient.”

And Kualu promised to be patient, and for a few days bore the neglect and frowns of his former friends, and the sneers and covert insults of his enemies. But when the heartless accusations of Kaheka, passing from tongue to tongue with the news of the dreadful slaughter, became generally known, and almost as generally believed, notwithstanding the statements of his three companions to the contrary, Kualu’s indignation could no longer be restrained, and he challenged to combat and slew on the spot a chief who, in the presence of a party of friends, repeated the charges to his face. Great excitement followed, and in his desperation and wrath Kualu invited the friends of his fallen defamer, one and all, to test his courage then or thereafter.

As the life of Kualu was now in constant and undoubted peril, Waahia advised him to leave Hawaii for a time, and together they set sail for Molokai, and took up their residence at Kalaupapa. But before leaving Waipio the kaula called upon the high-priest, by whom she was held in great respect, and told him where she might be found on Molokai, should her services be required.

“And they will be required,” said Waahia, significantly. “Kalaunui is not dead, and when you shall have failed in all your efforts to liberate him, tell Kaheka to think better of Kualu and send for me.”

“How know you that Kalaunui still lives?” inquired the priest.

“Should the high-priest of Pakaalani ask me that question?” replied Waahia. “Where are his seers? Where are the kilos of the temple, who in the heavens saw victory for Kalaunui where I beheld defeat? Have they not been consulted?”

“All do not see with the eyes of Waahia,” returned the priest, evasively.

Flattered by this recognition of her superiority, the kaula said, as she turned to depart: “You will know more to-morrow!” And an hour after, accompanied by Kualu, she left Waipio for Molokai.

The priest was not deceived by Waahia, for the day after [196]authentic intelligence was received from Maui to the effect that Kalaunui’s campaign had been a failure in Kauai, and the king was a prisoner in the hands of Kukona. The leading chiefs were called together in council, and several projects for the liberation of the king were advanced and discussed. Kaheka was in favor of raising a powerful army at once, and bringing her royal husband back by force; but when it was considered by cooler heads that Kukona was undoubtedly well prepared for war, and had secured the friendship, and in an emergency could command the support, of the chiefs of Maui, Oahu and Molokai, the suggestion was dismissed as dangerous and impracticable.

Under the circumstances it was finally resolved to attempt the liberation of Kalaunui through negotiation; and to this end messengers were despatched to Kauai with offers of a large number of canoes, spears and other war materials in exchange for the royal prisoner. But the surrender of Kalaunui’s fleet, and the capture of thousands of spears and other arms, had given Kukona a great abundance of both, and he declined the offer.

Failing in this, after a lapse of some months messengers were again sent to Kukona with a proffer of twenty full-sized mamos, or royal feather cloaks, a canoe-load of ivory and whalebone, and a thousand stone lipis, or axes, of a superior kind peculiar to Hawaii. The messengers were courteously received and listened to, but the offer was not accepted.

War was again urged by Kaheka, but the chiefs refused to embark in an undertaking so hazardous, and without their support she could do nothing. And so for more than two years Kalaunui remained in captivity, when a third attempt to ransom him was made. Kaheka despatched to Kauai two ambassadors of high rank, offering her daughter Kapapa in marriage either to Kukona or his son, Manokalanipo, and promising perpetual peace between the islands. This offer was also declined, and Kukona refused to name to the ambassadors the terms upon which he would treat for the liberation of their king.

It now became a question either of war or the abandonment of Kalaunui to his fate. In this dilemma the priests and kaulas were consulted, but their predictions were vague and their counsels unsatisfactory. Remembering the words of Waahia, the high-priest sought the presence of Kaheka, and advised her to send for the old prophetess, who was living with her foster-son at [197]Kalaupapa. This, after some persuasion, she consented to do, and, despatching a chief of high rank to Molokai, with the admission that she had accused Kualu unjustly, the kaula was induced to return with the messenger to Waipio. But Kualu did not accompany her. She was suspicious of Kaheka, and advised him to remain at Kalaupapa.

Arriving at Waipio, the kaula, feeling that the game was now in her own hands, informed the high-priest that she would communicate with the leading chiefs of the kingdom convened in council. The chiefs were accordingly assembled, and Waahia appeared before them. Kaheka was present, as the kaula desired.

With a staff in her hand, capped with the head of an owl, and her long, white hair falling to her waist, there was something weird and awe-inspiring in the appearance of the venerable prophetess as she entered the council-room and bowed low before Kaheka and the assembled chiefs. It was not her privilege to break the silence without permission, and when it had been formally accorded she raised her eyes, and, without especially addressing any one, said:

“Why have I been sent for?”

No one could answer, not even Kaheka.

At length an old chief, after conferring with those around him, replied:

“You have been sent for on the word of the high-priest, and with the hope that you might be able to point out a way for the return of Kalaunui to Hawaii. Can you do so?”

“I can speak of no way,” answered the kaula.

“Then you can do nothing?” returned the chief.

“My words were that I could speak of no way, nor can I,” said the kaula; “yet, keeping my own counsel, I might possibly be able to accomplish what you all desire.”

“And will you undertake to do so?” inquired Kaheka.

“Yes, on one condition,” was the prompt reply.

“Well, what do you ask for attempting to save the life of your king?” returned the queen, in a tone of rebuke.

Waahia did not like the spirit of the inquiry, and a scowl darkened her wrinkled face as she replied:

“I might ask that, if the gods willed that I should fail, Kaheka would not charge me with treachery!”

This reference to the treatment of Kualu created a feeling of [198]uneasiness among the chiefs; but, without inviting remark or explanation, the kaula continued:

“What I require is a pledge from every chief here that, should I succeed in liberating Kalaunui, the terms of the release, whatever they may be, will be complied with.”

The chiefs hesitated, as it was not impossible that the sovereignty of the island might be offered to Kukona by the prophetess, and they could not pledge themselves to a sacrifice involving their own ruin. Waahia relieved their apprehensions, however, by assuring them that the pledge would not be considered binding if the terms affected either the sovereignty of the island or the lives, possessions or prerogatives of its chiefs. With this assurance the members of the council, after briefly discussing the possibilities of the obligation, consented to accept it. Thereupon the pledge was carefully repeated thrice by the chiefs, and each in turn solemnly invoked upon himself, should he fail to keep and observe it in its fulness, the wrath of Hikapoloa, the divine trinity, and the swift and especial vengeance of Kuahana, the slayer of men.

“Are you satisfied now?” inquired Kaheka.

“I am satisfied,” replied the kaula.

“Do you require assistance?” This inquiry came from more than one.

“Only of the gods!” was the impressive answer of Waahia, as she left the council and slowly wended her way up the valley.

All night long strange lights flashed at intervals through the weather-rent openings in the kaula’s hut. Shadowy forms were seen to move noiselessly around it; owls came and went as the lights vanished and reappeared; and, just as the sun began to paint the east, Waahia proceeded to the beach, and with a single sturdy assistant of supernatural aspect embarked in a canoe which seemed to be equipped and provisioned for a long voyage. This was the ghostly narration of two or three of the nearest neighbors of the prophetess, and the truth of the story was not doubted, even when it reached the palace. Doubtless the plain facts were that Waahia spent the most of the night in preparing for the voyage, and set sail early in the morning with an assistant known to be trustworthy and familiar with the sea.

Waahia proceeded very leisurely to Kauai. The annual feast of Lono was approaching, and as she desired to arrive there during [199]the festival, which would not be for some days, she spent the intervening time in visiting many sacred spots and noted temples on Maui, Oahu, Molokai and Lanai. Perhaps to commune with the honored dead, she made a pilgrimage to the sacred valley of Iao, on the island of Maui, where were buried many of the distinguished kings and chiefs of the group. She stopped at Kalaupapa, on Molokai, to confer with Kualu, and while there paid a visit to the home, near Kaluakoi, of Laamaomao, the wind-god, who came from the south with Moikeha more than a century before; and in the same valley visited the dreaded spot where, in the reign of Kamauaua, the father of Kaupeepee, the abductor of Hina, near the close of the eleventh century, sprang up in a night the poisoned grove of Kalaipahoa, or, according to another tradition, where that goddess, belonging to a family of southern deities, visited the group with two of her sisters, and entered and poisoned a small grove of trees of natural growth.

From one of these poisonous trees the famous idol of Kalaipahoa was made. So poisonous was the wood that many died in cutting down the tree and carving the image, for all perished whose flesh was touched by the chips; but the workmen finally covered their bodies with kapa, including masks for their faces and wraps for their hands, and thus succeeded in completing the dangerous task without farther loss of life. But a single image was made. It remained with the ruling family of Molokai until the subjugation of the group by Kamehameha I., when it came into his possession, and at his death, in 1819, was divided among a few of the principal chiefs. Two fragments of the image, it is said, are still preserved, but they are carefully guarded and never exhibited to eyes sceptical or profane. Long before Waahia visited the spot the last vestige of the grove had disappeared, but for many acres around where the terrible trees once stood the earth was black and bare. Within the dreaded area no living thing was seen, and birds fell dead in flying over it. But the kaula entered it and returned unharmed, to the amazement of more than one witness.

Waahia next visited the heiau of Kaumolu, which was then a puhonua, or place of refuge, and in another temple near the coast offered sacrifices to the shark-god Mooalii. By reputation she was generally known to the priesthood of the group, and was nowhere regarded as an intruder in places sacred to worship. [200]

Stopping at Ewa, on the island of Oahu, she saw for the first time the hallowed enclosure of Kukaniloko, the creation of Nanakaoko, son of Nanamaoa, the earliest arrival from the south of the migratory stream of the eleventh century. Chiefs born there were endowed with especial prerogatives and distinctions, and the beating of a sacred drum called hawea gave notice without of the birth of a tabu chief.

The winter solstice, which marked the end of the Hawaiian year, was at hand, to be followed by the usual five days’ feast of Lono, and Waahia so timed her voyage as to arrive on Kauai the day before the festival began. She quietly landed at Koloa, and as far as possible avoided observation by taking up her residence in a small hut secured by her companion well back in the neighboring hills.

These annual festivals of Lono were seasons of universal merriment and rejoicing. The god was crowned and ornamented with leis of flowers and feathers, and unstinted offerings of pigs, fowls and fruits were laid upon the altars of the temples consecrated to his worship. Chiefs and people alike gave themselves unreservedly over to feasting, dancing, singing and the indulgence of almost every appetite and caprice, and the Saturnalias of the old Romans gave to the masses scarcely more license than the festivals of Lono. Every instrument of music known to the people—and they possessed but four or five of the simplest kinds—was brought into requisition, and for five days there was almost an uninterrupted tumult of revelry. Lakakane, the hula god, was decorated and brought out, and every variety of the dance was given—some of them to the time of vocal recitations and others to the noisier accompaniment of pipes, drums and rattling calabashes. In the midst of these enjoyments long-bearded bards appeared before the king and distinguished chiefs, and while some of them recited wild historic tales of the past, others chanted the mele-inoas and sang of the personal exploits of their titled listeners. Awa and other intoxicating drinks were freely indulged in by those who craved them, and the festivals were usually followed by a week or more of general languor and worthlessness.

It was the third day of the festival at Koloa. The gates of the [201]enclosure had been thrown open, and thousands of people thronged around the royal mansion in a grove near which large quantities of refreshments were spread on the ground in huge wooden trays and calabashes. The feast was free to all, and Kukona lounged on a pile of kapa in the deep shade of the trees in front of the palace, happy in witnessing the enjoyment of his subjects. Around him were standing a number of chiefs of high rank. A kahili of bright feathers was occasionally and unobtrusively waved above his head by the paakahili, and the iwikuamoo, aipuupuu and other of his personal attendants, all of the lesser nobility, stood in readiness to respond to his slightest wishes. A guard of inferior chiefs kept the crowd from pressing too closely the distinguished group, but from time to time, as permission was granted, select bands of dancers and musicians and chanters of ability were allowed to approach and entertain the royal party with specimens of their skill and erudition.

A company of dancers had just retired, when Waahia, with a staff in her hand, and wearing a short mantle, indicating that she claimed privileges of dress which were not accorded to women generally, asked permission to be admitted to the presence of the king. Her strange appearance excited the curiosity of Kukona, and she was allowed to approach. Kneeling and touching her forehead to the ground, she rose and asked if it was the pleasure of the king to hear her. As these ceremonies, due to supreme authority, were usually waived on such occasions, it was surmised that the woman must be a stranger in Kauai. She was told to speak. A moooelo, or historic chant, was expected; but in a full, sharp voice she chanted these words:

At the conclusion of the chant, which was listened to with attention, the kaula bowed and disappeared in the crowd. Kukona had heard of the long knife, and Waahia’s description of its powers interested him greatly. He despatched a messenger to the high-priest, ordering that the diviners at once be put to the task of discovering the hiding-place of the sacred weapon.

On the following afternoon Waahia appeared before the king and his chiefs, and with the same ceremonies repeated her chant of the day before. The high-priest was summoned, and informed the king that his diviners had as yet discovered no trace of the long knife.

The third day Waahia appeared and repeated her chant before the king, and silently withdrew, as before. Again the high-priest was summoned, but was able to offer no assurance that the long knife would be found by the kahunas. They had resorted to every means of inspiration and magic known to them, but could discover no clue to the mystery.

“Who is this woman who for three successive days has told us of the lost knife?” inquired Kukona, addressing the chiefs surrounding him. [203]

No one seemed to be able to answer. Finally the master of ceremonies stepped forward and replied:

“The woman, I think, is Waahia, the noted prophetess of Hawaii. I saw her fifteen years ago in Waipio, and am quite sure that I remember her face.”

The name, if not the face, of the distinguished seeress was known to the king and many others present, and the high-priest, anxious to explain the failure of his magicians, bowed and said:

“The master of ceremonies has doubtless spoken truly. The woman must be Waahia. Her powers are great, and a secret in her keeping is beyond the reach of the kaulas.”

Accepting this explanation of the high-priest, Kukona ordered the prophetess to be found and respectfully conducted to the royal mansion; but after a fruitless search of two days it was reported that she had probably left the valley, and therefore could not be found.

Irritated at what seemed to be the inefficiency or neglect of his kaulas and chiefs, Kukona was about to attach a death-penalty to further failure when Waahia suddenly entered the royal enclosure and approached the palace. Her appearance was most welcome to the attending chiefs, and she was ushered at once into the presence of the king. So delighted was Kukona at the unexpected visit that he rose unconsciously to his feet and greeted the prophetess. This breach of courtly form amazed the attendants of the king, and suggested to them that the strange visitor must be of supreme rank; but before any explanation could be gathered they were ordered to retire, even to the paakahili, and Kukona was left alone with the kaula.

The king motioned his visitor to a lounge of kapa, for she seemed to be old and feeble, and he had a favor to ask. Seating herself, as requested, the king approached, and, in a voice that could not well be overheard, said:

“Are you Waahia, the prophetess of Hawaii?”

“I am Waahia,” answered the kaula.

“You have chanted of the long knife of the stranger, of the bright knife of Lono, of the lost knife of Wailuku,” resumed Kukona. “Our diviners can give me no information concerning it.”

Waahia smiled significantly, but made no reply, and the king continued: [204]

“They say you have tabued the secret, and others, therefore, cannot share it. Is it so?”

“Perhaps,” was the brief reply.

“Then you can find the sacred knife?” eagerly suggested Kukona.

“I can find it,” was the kaula’s emphatic answer.

“Then find and bring it to Kukona, and for the service claim what you will,” was the prompt proposal of the king.

With the way thus broadly opened, Waahia announced that the price of the knife must be the liberation of Kalaunui, and was astonished at the promptness with which the terms were accepted. It was manifest to Waahia that he either placed a very high value upon the talisman, or had kept his royal prisoner about as long as he cared to detain him or the peace of his kingdom required. In either event his unhesitating acceptance of the main consideration warranted Waahia in at once naming one or two other conditions, which were just as promptly agreed to by the king. One of these conditions was that Kalaunui should agree, as the only consideration for his release to be known to him, that his daughter Kapapa should be given in marriage to the chief Kualu, not only as a fitting union, but as a measure of atonement for the unjust and disgraceful charges made against that worthy young chief by Kaheka, and that Kukona and Kalaunui should mutually pledge themselves to the fulfilment of the compact. The other condition was that, on the delivery of the knife to Kukona, he was to release the captive king at once, and return him to Hawaii in company with three high chiefs of Kauai, who were to remain in Waipio until after the consummation of the marriage of Kapapa and Kualu.

Kalaunui was communicated with. For nearly three years he had been confined and closely but respectfully guarded within a square of high stone walls enclosing a single hut. Utterly unable to account for Kukona’s interest in Kualu, he nevertheless accepted the terms submitted to him for his release, and Waahia started at once for Kalaupapa, promising to be back within six days. For the voyage she accepted a canoe larger and more commodious than her own, and the services of five additional rowers.

Arriving at Kalaupapa on the morning of the third day from Koloa, Waahia startled Kualu by informing him that Kalaunui [205]was about to be released, and that in twelve days he must return without further notice to Waipio, where he would be relieved of all disgrace by the king, and become the husband of Kapapa. Coming from Waahia, he believed the words as if they had been flashed from the heavens, and asked for no confirmation as the kaula abruptly left him and proceeded alone toward the hills.

A few hours later Waahia re-embarked for Kauai, taking with her, securely wrapped in a number of kapa folds, the sword of Kaluiki. She reached Koloa within the time promised, and, proceeding to the palace, delivered to the king, in person and alone, the glittering blade which rumor had clothed with extraordinary sanctity and power.

Kalaunui renewed his pledge to Kukona, and the next morning embarked for Hawaii in a large double canoe, accompanied by three of the leading chiefs of Kauai and their attendants. Stepping into the kaulua as it was about to be shoved into the surf, Kalaunui caught sight of Waahia, for the first time for years, as she stood leaning upon her staff near the water. Kualu’s part in the agreement with Kukona was explained at once by Waahia’s presence in Koloa; but what was Kualu to Kukona? and, if nothing, what influences had the kaula been able to bring to effect his release upon such conditions? No matter. Kalaunui was too happy in his liberation to quarrel with the means through which it had been secured, and he turned with a look of gratitude toward the prophetess as the canoe shot out into the breakers.

The return of their captive king was joyously celebrated by the people of Hawaii, and a few days after Kapapa became the willing wife of Kualu. The union was distasteful to Kaheka, but she was powerless to prevent it. The agreement was faithfully fulfilled by Kalaunui, and he spent the remainder of his days in peace, leaving the kingdom to his only son, Kuaiwa, between whom and Kualu a lasting friendship was established.

Kualu, with Kapapa, became the head of an influential family, one of his direct descendants having been the wife of Makaoku, a son of Kiha and brother of Liloa, one of the most noted of the kings of Hawaii.

The sword of Kaluiki, the ransom of a king, remained for some generations with the descendants of Kukona; but what became of it in the end tradition fails to tell. [207]

THE SACRED SPEAR-POINT.

THE ADVENTURES OF KAULULAAU, PRINCE OF MAUI.

Kaululaau was one of the sons of Kakaalaneo, brother of, and joint ruler with, Kakae in the government of Maui. The latter was the legitimate heir to the moiship, but, as he was weak-minded, Kakaalaneo ruled jointly with him and was the real sovereign of the little kingdom. The court of the brothers was at Lele (now Lahaina), and was one of the most distinguished in the group.

The mother of Kaululaau was Kanikaniaula, of the family of Kamauaua, king of Molokai, through his son Haili, who was the brother or half-brother of Keoloewa and Kaupeepee. The latter, it will be remembered, was the abductor of the celebrated Hina, of Hawaii, and the family was of the old strain of Maweke.

Kaululaau was probably born somewhere between the years 1390 and 1400. He had a half-sister, whose name was Wao, and a half-brother, Kaihiwalua, who was the father of Luaia, who became the husband of a daughter of Piliwale, moi of Oahu, and brother of Lo-Lale. He doubtless had other brothers and sisters, since his father was blessed with two or more wives, but the legends fail to refer to them.

Kahekili, son of Kakae, and who became his successor in the moiship, was of near the age of his cousin, Kaululaau, and the two princes grew to manhood together. They were instructed by the same teachers, schooled in the same arts and chiefly accomplishments, and chanted the same genealogical meles. Yet in disposition and personal appearance they were widely different.

From his youth Kahekili was staid, sober and thoughtful. Bred to the knowledge that he would succeed his father as moi of the island, he began early in life to prepare himself for the proper exercise of supreme authority, and at the age of twenty was noted for his intelligence, dignity and royal bearing. He had been told by a prophet that one of his name would be the last independent [210]king of Maui, and the information rendered him solicitous for his future and drove many a smile from his lips. Yet, with all his austerity and circumspection, he was kind-hearted and affectionate, and his pastimes were such as comported with his dignity. In height he was somewhat below the chiefly medium, and his features were rugged and of a Papuan cast; but all knew that he was royal in heart and thought, and the respect due to him was not withheld.

Kaululaau was unlike his royal cousin in almost every respect. He was noted alike for his intelligence, his manly beauty and his rollicking spirit of mischief and merriment. He did not covet the sceptre. He thought more of a wild debauch, with music, dancing and a calabash of awa, than the right to command “downward” or “upward the face”; and since Kahekili was the designated successor of his father, he claimed the right, as a favored and tabu subject of the realm, to enjoy himself in such manner as best accorded with his tastes. As he could not make laws, he found a pleasure in breaking them. He was neither wantonly cruel nor malignant, but recklessly wild and mischievous, and neither the reproofs of his father nor the mild persuasions of his cousin were sufficient to restrain him. His bantering reply to the latter was: “When you become king I will act with more propriety. Two mois can afford one wild prince.”

He had a congenial following of companions and retainers, who assisted him in his schemes of mischief. With feasting and hula dancing he would keep the village in an uproar for a dozen consecutive nights. He would send canoes adrift, open the gates of fish-ponds, remove the supports of houses, and paint swine black to deceive the sacrificial priests. He devised an instrument to imitate the death-warning notes of the alae, and frightened people by sounding it near their doors; and to others he caused information to be conveyed that they were being prayed to death.

Notwithstanding these misdemeanors, Kaululaau was popular with the people, since the chiefs or members of the royal household were usually the victims of his mischievous freaks. He was encouraged in his disposition to qualify himself for the priesthood, under the instruction of the eminent high-priest and prophet, Waolani, and had made substantial advances in the calling, when he was banished to the island of Lanai by his royal father for an offence which could neither be overlooked nor forgiven. [211]

At that time Lanai was infested with a number of gnomes, monsters and evil spirits, among them the gigantic moo, Mooaleo. They ravaged fields, uprooted cocoanut-trees, destroyed the walls of fish-ponds, and otherwise frightened and discomfited the inhabitants of the island. That his residence there might be made endurable, Kaululaau was instructed by the kaulas and sorcerers of the court in many charms, spells, prayers and incantations with which to resist the powers of the supernatural monsters. When informed of these exorcising agencies by Kaululaau, his friend, the venerable high-priest, Waolani, told him that they would avail him nothing against the more powerful and malignant of the demons of Lanai.

Disheartened at the declaration, Kaululaau was about to leave the heiau to embark for Lanai, when Waolani, after some hesitation, stayed his departure, and, entering the inner temple, soon returned with a small roll of kapa in his hand. Slowly uncording and removing many folds of cloth, an ivory spear-point a span in length was finally brought to view. Holding it before the prince, he said:

“Take this. It will serve you in any way you may require. Its powers are greater than those of any god inhabiting the earth. It has been dipped in the waters of Po, and many generations ago was left by Lono upon one of his altars for the protection of a temple menaced by a mighty fish-god who found a retreat beneath it in a great cavern connected with the sea. Draw a line with it and nothing can pass the mark. Affix it to a spear and throw it, and it will reach the object, no matter how far distant. Much more will it do, but let what I have said suffice.”

The prince eagerly reached to possess the treasure, but the priest withdrew it and continued:

“I give it to you on condition that it pass from you to no other hands than mine, and that if I am no longer living when you return to Maui—as you some day will—you will secretly deposit it with my bones. Swear to this in the name of Lono.”

Kaululaau solemnly pronounced the required oath. The priest then handed him the talisman, wrapped in the kapa from which it had been taken, and he left the temple, and immediately embarked with a number of his attendants for Lanai.

Reaching Lanai, he established his household on the south side of the island. Learning his name and rank, the people [212]treated him with great respect—for Lanai was then a dependency of Maui—assisted in the construction of the houses necessary for his accommodation, and provided him with fish, poi, fruits and potatoes in great abundance. In return for this devotion he set about ridding the island of the supernatural pests with which it had been for years afflicted.

In the legend of “Kelea, the Surf-rider of Maui,” will be found some reference to the battles of Kaululaau with the evil spirits and monsters of Lanai. His most stubborn conflict was with the gnome god Mooaleo. He imprisoned the demon within the earth by drawing a line around him with the sacred spear-point, and subsequently released and drove him into the sea.

More than a year was spent by Kaululaau in quieting and expelling from the island the malicious monsters that troubled it, but he succeeded in the end in completely relieving the people from their vexatious visitations. This added immeasurably to his popularity, and the choicest of the products of land and sea were laid at his feet.

His triumph over the demons of Lanai was soon known on the other islands of the group, and when it reached the ears of Kakaalaneo he despatched a messenger to his son, offering his forgiveness and recalling him from exile. The service he had rendered was important, and his royal father was anxious to recognize it by restoring him to favor.

But Kaululaau showed no haste in availing himself of his father’s magnanimity. Far from the restraints of the court, he had become attached to the independent life he had found in exile, and could think of no comforts or enjoyments unattainable on Lanai. The women there were as handsome as elsewhere, the bananas were as sweet, the cocoanuts were as large, the awa was as stimulating, and the fisheries were as varied and abundant in product. He had congenial companionship, and bands of musicians and dancers at his call. The best of the earth and the love of the people were his, and the apapani sang in the grove that shaded his door. What more could he ask, what more expect should he return to Maui? His exile had ceased to be a punishment, and his father’s message of recall was scarcely deemed a favor.

However, Kaululaau returned a respectful answer by his father’s messenger, thanking Kakaalaneo for his clemency, and [213]announcing that he would return to Maui some time in the near future, after having visited some of the other islands of the group; and three months later he began to prepare for a trip to Hawaii. He procured a large double canoe, which he painted a royal yellow, and had fabricated a number of cloaks and capes of the feathers of the oo and mamo. At the prow of his canoe he mounted a carved image of Lono, and at the top of one of the masts a place was reserved for the proud tabu standard of an aha alii. This done, with a proper retinue he set sail for Hawaii.

On his visit to Hawaii, Kaululaau was accompanied by a number of companions of his own disposition and temperament. Among them was Kamakaua, a young Maui chief, who had followed him into exile and was thoroughly devoted to his interests. He was brave, courtly and intelligent, and in personal appearance somewhat resembled the prince. The crew and most of the attendants of the prince had been selected by Kamakaua, including the chief navigator and astrologer; and however competent they may have been in their respective stations, it was discovered during the voyage that they were no less efficient as musicians and dancers. Hence there was no lack of amusement as the huge double canoe breasted the waves of Alenuihaha Channel, and on the morning of the third day stood off the village of Waipio, in the district of Hamakua, Hawaii.

At that time Kauholanui-mahu, father of the noted Kiha, was king of Hawaii. His wife was Neula, a chiefess of Maui, who had inherited very considerable possessions in the neighborhood of Honuaula, on that island. As the climate of the locality was salubrious, and the neighboring waters abounded abundantly in fish, the royal couple made frequent and sometimes lengthy visits thither. These visits were usually made without the knowledge of Kakaalaneo, and the unexplained attachment of the Hawaiian king to the comparatively small inheritance of his wife on a neighboring island began to be regarded with suspicion, and had become a theme for speculation and inquiry at the court of Lahaina.

At the time of the visit of Kaululaau to Waipio, Kauholanui [214]had been absent for some months on Maui, leaving Neula in charge of the government of Hawaii. Attributing the absence of the king to deliberate neglect, Neula had become greatly dissatisfied, and whispers of coming trouble were rife throughout the island. All this was doubtless known to Kaululaau, and, as the royal residence was at Waipio, it was upon the beach below it that he landed with his party and drew up his double canoe.

The presence and state of the strangers were soon heralded to the queen, and she promptly despatched messengers, courteously inviting the prince and his personal retainers to become her guests at the royal hale, at the same time giving orders for the accommodation of the humbler of his attendants and followers, as was the hospitable custom of the time.

Accepting the invitation, Kaululaau and four of his chiefly companions were provided with quarters within the palace enclosure, and their food was served from the royal table. In the afternoon Kaululaau was accorded an audience with the queen, during which he presented his friends, including Kamakaua.

The prince whiled away nearly a month at Waipio, and many formal entertainments were given in his honor. Neula was unusually agreeable, and was soon on terms of friendly intimacy both with the prince and Kamakaua. This was exactly what Kaululaau desired, since it enabled him to devise and assist in the execution of a scheme for bringing the king back from Maui and keeping him thereafter within his own kingdom.

Under the instructions of Kaululaau, Kamakaua assumed to be greatly smitten with the charms of the queen. As she was a comely woman, and somewhat vain of her personal appearance, the conquest of the handsome chief gratified her; but his attentions developed the fact that he had a rival in Noakua, a chief of Kohala. This discovery simplified the plans of the prince, and relieved Kamakaua of a dangerous duty in the end. In pressing his suit he found a pretext for informing the queen that the continued absence of the king was due to the fact that he had taken another wife, with whom he was living at Honuaula, and that he had ceased to care either for his kingdom or his family.

While Kamakaua was pouring this poison into the ears of Neula, Kaululaau, who had made the acquaintance of Noakua, was planting in the mind of that chief the seeds of sedition. He flattered him with the opinion that he was made to rule, and by [215]degrees developed to him a plan through which, with the favor of the queen, he could seize the government, unite the principal chiefs in his support, and prevent Kauholanui from returning to Hawaii.

The ambition of Noakua, and anger of the queen at the presumed neglect and infidelity of her husband, soon harmonized them in a plot against the absent king. Preparations for the revolt began to be observed, when Kaululaau, not wishing to be openly identified with the dangerous movement, quietly embarked with his party for Hilo, where he remained to watch the progress of the struggle which he had been instrumental in originating.

The prince had been in Hilo but a few days when a lunapai arrived from Waipio, summoning the chief of the district to repair thither with eight hundred warriors, and announcing the assumption of the sovereignty of the island by Neula. Similar notifications were sent to the chiefs of the other districts of the kingdom, and soon all was excitement from Kau to Kohala.

Hearing of the revolt, Kauholanui, who had been engaged in constructing a fish-pond at Keoneoio, in the neighborhood of Honuaula, left Maui at once with less than a hundred spears, and, landing in Kona, whose chief could be relied upon, he started overland for Waipio. The revolution was unpopular, and with great unanimity the chiefs and people rallied to the standard of the king. The struggle was brief. A battle was fought near Waimea, resulting in the defeat of the rebel army and the death of Noakua.

This ended the revolt. As a punishment to Neula the king took another wife. But the object of Kaululaau was accomplished, for Kauholanui never again visited Maui, although the queen spent much of her time thereafter at Honuaula, where her favorite guest and friend was Kamakaua.

Leaving Hilo, Kaululaau and his party leisurely drifted along the coasts of Puna until they reached the borders of Kau, when they landed at Keauhou to spend a few days in fishing and surf-riding.

Weary of the sport, Kaululaau left the bathers in the surf, one afternoon, and threw himself under the shade of a hala tree near the shore. Watching the clouds and the sea-birds circling in the heavens above him, he fell asleep, and when he awoke his eyes fell upon a beautiful woman sitting upon a rock not more than a [216]hundred paces distant, and silently watching the swimmers as they came riding in on the crests of the rollers. Her skirts were a pau spangled with crystals, and over her shoulders hung a short mantle of the colors of a rainbow. Her long hair was held back by a lei of flowers, and her wrists and ankles were adorned with circlets of tiny shells of pink and white.

The appearance of the woman dazzled him, and after gazing for some time, and rubbing his eyes to be sure that he was not dreaming, he rose to his feet and approached the radiant being. Advancing within four or five paces of the woman, apparently unobserved, he stopped, and with a cough attracted her attention. Turning her face toward him, he greeted her courteously, and requested permission to approach nearer and converse with her. Her appearance indicated that she was a person of rank, and he did not feel like trespassing uninvited upon her privacy. She did not deign to make any reply to his request, but, after scanning him from head to foot, turned her face toward the sea again with a contemptuous toss of the head.