Part 4

But Ahi’s joy was short-lived and gave way to convulsive rage when he looked again. For the terror had fled from Kakaua’s face and in its stead was joy, and the priest following the eyes of the doomed man looked upon the countenance of Pele, and lo! it was Pele no longer, but Keala. And the man stretched out his arms in ecstasy for the embrace of the goddess. Yes, Pele had, after all, hearkened to Keala’s prayer.

Darkness came over the frustrate ghost, and presently from the smoke of his own hearth Ahi’s spirit went out unbidden and stood in the halls of the underworld, the abode of Milu. A great paradise stretched out before the portals of the gloomy prison-house. There were waters fresher and palms greener than those of Waipio, and down the mossy rocks trickled the sparkling drops which made the stream, as though the tears of lovers shed on earth were here distilling into the river of the water of life. Delicious perfumes and the song of innumerable birds filled the air.

But all this gave no pleasure to the soul of Ahi, who made fruitless efforts not to see, when before him glided the happy shades of Kakaua and Keala in joyous converse, and he cursed Uli and Kiiaka and all his gods when they looked upon him and said:

“Thanks, Ahi, through thee we are alive, for we love, and thou, alas! art dead!”

* * * * *

Ahi awoke and the ashes upon his hearth were dead and cold.

As for Ahi himself, his hair was white and his limbs palsied. He knew that the words of Kakaua and Keala were true, and that the gods had written down his name as dead. His heart within his breast was like stone, and his life was gone from him like smoke. He lived thus many years, but he gave no more offerings to Pele, for he said: “Verily, the fires of Pele turn to sunshine, and the spells of the _kahuna_ are vain before such love as that of Kakaua and Keala.”

VI

PELE DECLARES FOR KAMEHAMEHA

The ancient kings of Hawaii showed their wisdom and their appreciation of the beautiful when they chose Waipio for a royal residence. There was no other spot in the Eight Islands so blessed by nature, prodigal as she was of her gifts from Niihau to Hawaii. A romantic valley nearly a mile wide at the seaward entrance, enclosed on the other sides by nearly perpendicular hills, clothed with grass, creepers and shrubs--such was Waipio. Winding paths led upwards amid the jutting rocks and threadlike cascades descending almost at one leap, forming the stream below which flowed deviously among the sand-hills to the sea.

At one time, says an old legend, the stream was more sluggish than now, but a great fish which lived off the Hamakua coast found the supply of fresh water too scanty for his need and appealed to Kane for more. In consequence, fresh springs were created, the bed of the river tilted up and the requisite increase of water obligingly supplied. The great fish is there no longer; but, if so disposed, you may still see the finger marks of Kane on the huge stones which he hurled into the river to raise its bed.

A hundred and eighteen years ago Waipio was still the loveliest spot in the Paradise of the Pacific. Here the palms were tallest, the foliage greenest, the blossoms brightest, the water coolest. And in recognition of this fact many were the folk who here made their abode. Along the foot of the mountains and extending up the valley as far as the eye could reach were little groups of grass huts looking almost as natural as the trees and mountains. Nearer the sea was part of the patrimony of Kamehameha, and many were the evidences of the labors in which the great chief, like a modern Cincinnatus, had indulged in the intervals of fighting his many foes. Here were the fish ponds, here the taro-patches, here even attempts at the construction of an aqueduct--attempts rendered, however, futile by the lack of adequate tools.

At the time of which we speak Kamehameha was at home, but nevertheless not bent upon peaceful pursuits. This was at once evident from a glance at the coral beach. Gigantic war canoes painted and pennoned lay along the sand mile after mile. A great double pirogue, containing mounted cannon and chests of firearms, was evidently the king’s own special craft. There were, however, several more or less seaworthy schooners of American build in the royal fleet.

In these Kamehameha and his army had come hurriedly back from Molokai, whither he had gone after his great victory in Maui. The battle in the Iao valley, known as the “damming of the waters,” had rendered him, for the time being, master of Maui, and, after sending one ambassador to Kauai to look out a powerful wizard and another to Oahu to interview Kahekili, he had gone himself to Molokai to secure influence over the high chiefess Kalola, her daughter Liliha and her granddaughter Keopuolani. With these on his side, or under his protection, Kamehameha knew he could appeal with every hope of success to the aristocratic instincts of the people.

But suddenly, almost from the blue sky, a thunderbolt had fallen into the midst of his plans. A messenger landed one morning with the news that Keoua in Hawaii had attacked and slain Keawemauhili in a battle near Hilo, had overrun and annexed his dominions in Puna and Kau, and had forthwith invaded the territories of Kamehameha in Hamakua, Waipio, and Waimea, destroying fish ponds and potato fields, and committing all kinds of barbarities.

Such news was an imperative summons to Kamehameha to return at once to Hawaii, and this he had done with his usual celerity. Keoua, taken by surprise, retreated to Paauhau in Hamakua and there awaited attack. Two bloody battles were fought, but neither side gained much advantage, and, while Keoua fell back on Hilo, Kamehameha withdrew to Waipio, where we now behold him, in November, 1790, getting ready for the final struggle.

Little groups of chiefs and warriors are sitting on the beach, polishing their weapons and talking of the prospects of the campaign.

“Kamehameha has been playing with Keoua so far,” said an old grizzled warrior, scarred with the wounds of twenty battles. “When he begins to fight real battles, he will win.”

“He has the favor of the gods,” said another; “he should soon make an end of rebellion.”

“Ay,” added a third, “what chief in Hawaii aforetime has been at once the guardian of Kaili, the war god, and the possessor of Kalaipahoa, the poison goddess?”

“And,” said Kamanawa, “the owner of the magic conch, Kiha-pu!”

“And has had the help of the white men,” interposed Kaiana, proud of his friendship with the _haole_ captains, with whom he made a visit to China. “See what havoc the red-mouthed guns made in Kepaniwai!”

“Yea,” resumed Keeaumoku, “the ‘Lonely One’ must succeed. Years ago, when I withdrew from the battlefield because I knew no leader whose battle-shout stirred my blood, the old prophet Keaulumoku came across the hills from Lahaina to my dwelling and chanted me the events which were to come. That was years ago, but I wait in patience.”

“One thing Kamehameha lacks,” said a chief who had hitherto remained silent--and as he spake the others lifted their faces in expectant surprise--“one thing the lord of Kohala lacks. Marked you not the other night how, while we slept, there came a tremor of the earth which waked us all and brought cold blood to our hearts? If that same goddess who thus changed sleep into fear would come to the help of our chief, Keoua would not long remain in the upper air. Pele is stronger than the white man’s fire-breathing guns! But, behold! yonder comes the _lunapai_, and with him a goodly number of recruits for the war. Let us go and hear his news.”

As though the speaker’s thought were the thought of the whole camp, there was a simultaneous movement towards the _lanai_, whither the messenger had directed his steps. The excitement grew when it was seen that the _lunapai_ had news. He had gone well nigh round the island, three hundred miles in nine days, and had met with signal success. There had been no need of the _uluku_ to slit the ears of the recruits and drag them reluctant to the war. Goodly young men had joined him at every village, and Kamehameha’s ranks were swelled by a daily increasing army of those who had heard of his exploits in Maui and how he had at last avenged the slaughter on the sand-hills fifteen years before.

But the man had evidently something else to relate besides his success as a _lunapai_ and, refusing to eat or drink until he told his tale, he only waited until Kamehameha, who had just come in from fishing, had taken his place on a couch of _pulu_ and then began:

“O king, verily a mightier _lunapai_ than Pakahala has gone through the island. Hearken, chiefs, and fear the gods! Hearken, warriors, and follow your lord, the beloved of heaven, to sure and happy victory!”

The chiefs and spearmen gathered round at once and a great silence was made. Then the orator resumed:

“Keoua assembled his warriors and set out for Kau. They marched, a great host lusting for the noise of battle, along the road which leads by the abode of Pele, the death-dealing Kilauea. Heedless of the power of the goddess, they rolled stones into the crater, unmindful of the sacrilege.

“But Pele was not pleased with their amusement, neither liked she to receive rocks instead of _ohelo_-berries. And when the men slept, she awakened in her anger and threw out the stones they had thrown in, with flame and cinders, to a great distance. Then were Keoua’s men afraid and in vain tried to soothe the goddess. But she refused to be appeased, and all through that day and the second and the third the earth shook and the fire leaped from the mountain, and the ashes rained down upon the host.

“Then on the third night Keoua spake and said: ‘Why stay we here to be consumed of Pele? Let us advance.’ So they advanced in three companies. The first company moved on over the mountain, and, verily, as they went they died a thousand deaths.

“For the earth rocked beneath their feet and darkness came forth from the crater which entered into their souls, and the thunder made their hearts quake, and the lightnings burned up many among them. From the pit beside them the fire glared red and blue and yellow, as though all the sisters and cousins of Pele were holding revel and mocking their victims. Scarce could they breathe, but they hastened on and gained at last the free air.

“After these marched the second company and, a little later, the third. These felt the earthquake and the showers of sand, but lost no men in the darkness and storm. As they pressed on, hoping soon to overtake their fellows, they rejoiced and each bade the other be of good cheer, since they had escaped the fury of the goddess.

“But, ere they had gone a hundred paces further, they saw a sight which moved their hearts with such a fear as comes to man but once in life. What was that crowd of warriors doing yonder, sitting silent on the earth? Were they asleep or turned to stone? There was the whole central band of the army, silent and still; some sat upright, some were lying down, some even yet embracing their wives and children, some joining noses, as taking leave one of another. And all was ghastly and still. Every heart was chilled with the cold shadow of death.

“Nevertheless, scarce could they believe the truth until they approached and touched and shook them. Then they knew that suddenly, as in a moment, the third part of Keoua’s army had been breathed upon by Pele, and the life had fled from them like vapor before the fire. But one living thing was there. It was a hog rooting among the trees, and the men were afraid, believing it to be Kamapuaa, the man-pig, spouse of the goddess. So they did not dare to stay to raise the wail of mourners. They hurried on and, after much time, reached the band which first crossed the mountain. From these, O king, I heard the story, and thither I am come to proclaim that the queen of Halemaumau has declared herself on our part. Verily, Pele has accepted thee for a son and will bring thee to the lordship of Hawaii!”

The concourse scarce awaited the orator’s peroration. A mighty shout arose from the host, and with one voice they cried: “_E Kamehameha!_ Praise we the goddess of fire, gracious to us and to our lord.”

Kamehameha arose. He had thrown his cloak over his shoulders, donned his feather-helmet and grasped his terrible spear. Head and shoulders he appeared above every man in the assembly, and as he spake his form seemed to swell and his voice increase in power, as though the afflatus of the gods possessed him. Then he cried, and men in the canoes far out to sea heard his voice:

“Great is the favor of Pele! Now, chiefs and warriors of Hawaii, the time is come. On with the building of the great _heiau_! On with Puukohola! Make the altar ready for the body of the victim, even for Keoua. A few more days and Keliimaikai shall present Kaili the blood for which he thirsts. Keoua’s death-day draws nigh and the day of victory. Praise to Pele, dwelling in the vaults of eternal fire, the friend and guardian of Kamehameha, your king.”

VII

THE CITY OF REFUGE

_A Tale of Oahu_

“All day long the noise of battle roll’d.”

But it was night now, and there was silence on the battlefield. As the moon rose, its long shafts of light quivered across the lagoons which stretched between Moanalua and Waianae, and silvered the coral beach of Ewa, so that the dark heaps of corpses stood out with weird distinctness.

The treachery of Kalanikapule had been crowned with success--a success which in the aftertimes proved ruinous enough, since the folly of Kahekili’s heirs was preparing the way for the supremacy of Kamehameha--and Kaeo was dead. The brave invader from Maui had accepted war with a light heart, since it brought him immunity from the plottings of his chiefs, and might even have repelled the wanton attack of his brother, had it not been for the guns and ships of the white man.

But, as it was, he found himself in a trap. “Better to die in battle,” he said, “many will be the companions in death,” and so fought to the last, and died.

Yes, indeed! many _had_ been the “companions in death”--not only among the yellow-cloaked _aliis_ who had hurled their spears in vain against the “red-mouthed” guns, but even among the women, who, following at first to supply the warriors with food and drink from their calabashes, stood at last, side by side, with their husbands to aid them, and fell across their corpses.

It was thus that Liliha had stood by and fallen with her husband Kahulu; but, in the moonlight, who was to distinguish hero from hero? Their souls had gone down into the dark halls of Milu, their bodies were objects of attention to the foul night-birds which flapped their dusky wings with joy and scarce had leisure to break the silence with a scream as they gorged themselves on the red fruit of fraternal discord.

There was apparently no one to disturb the horrid feast, but suddenly a little cry came from one of the hills of slain which sent the whole black brood whirring across to another part of the battlefield. A bird had been pecking at the eyes of the slain and had aroused, by the smart, some unconscious one back to life.

The cry was faint enough, but presently from the gory hillock whence it came, there might have been seen a form of a woman painfully disengaging herself from the surrounding dead. One corpse she sought, but could not find, or she had been content to clasp it and send forth her soul to seek its soul in the nether world. So with a little cry, which might have been the expression of disappointment or of hope, Liliha, daughter of the high-priest of Kauai and wife of Kaulu (for so you might have recognized her as the traveling lamp of night sent its cold rays across her beautiful face), slipped, with a shudder, from her gruesome bedfellows, and laboriously sought the shore. The little waves were sleepily plashing on the coral beach, toying with the dripping branches and blossoms of the overhanging _hau_. Here was an invitation if not to life, at least to death, which latter Liliha felt was almost, if not quite, as good.

But when the water flowed around her limbs she felt suddenly strong and instinctively swam out into the silver waters of the lagoon. The waves bathed her wounds and cooled her fevered brow, and there seemed above her the spirit-wings of Hope whom even Hawaiian mythology recognized and worshipped. She struck out for the Aiea shore, where she hoped to find refuge among her kin until the wrath of Kalanikapule should be overpast.

But, as she went on, the wounds bled again, some hungry shark was surely behind her scenting the blood, and, when at length she cast her body, bruised and bleeding, upon the beach, she no longer hoped for life, but for a cave in which to die.

At the entrance of the Halawa valley was a thicket almost concealing the mouth of the pass. A tangle of _ieie_ had overgrown the shrubs and trees, so that to right or left of the white boulders, over which in freshet-times the torrents passed from the mountains to the sea, there was just the place where a hunted fugitive might hide or a wounded animal might die.

Here Liliha lay on the _pulu_, never so luxuriously soft as now. (We may appreciate the instinct which leads the Hawaiians to-day to pad their coffins with it.) But the valley of Halawa was not to be Liliha’s coffin. Her swoon of the battlefield was but repeated, and when she awoke there was near her the sound of many men all talking together around a fire whose glow penetrated her hiding-place. They were mixing _awa_; the bowl was in their midst, and they were busy chewing the narcotic root and steeping the masticated morsels in the bowl. They had evidently shared in the recent fight, for they had their weapons with them, and, as the firelight shone upon their breasts, Liliha saw that the ivory _palaoa_ of several had been stained with blood.

But presently a groan startled the awakened woman. It came from an inert bundle just beyond the fireglow. The warriors turned their heads. They were in a merry mood. Victory had crowned their arms, and an _awa_ orgy was in sight. Hence they only chuckled and said:

“_E Kahulu!_ but you shall soon drink _awa_ with Milu! Kaeo will have some boon companions down there in the dark. There is twitching of the eyes in the house of Kahulu to-day, or verily the _akua_ are all asleep.”

The object of their mockery answered not, but turned over to nurse his thoughts in silence. As his face for one instant caught the light, the woman in the thicket knew him and--decided to live.

Meanwhile the _awa_-brewing went on, and presently came the _awa_-drinking. For an hour the merriment grew and then for an hour it declined, till one form after another, with a sidelong glance at the helpless prisoner, yielded to the seductive narcotic and slept--a sleep not pleasant to look on, for the bodies of the men turned uneasily and writhed as in pain.

But one slept not. He had had no _awa_, and bitter thoughts keep him wakeful. Death was certain. All the omens proved it. Was not even now that low cooing sound the voice of the _alae_, the waterfowl, whose call was always the harbinger of death? He raised his head to listen, and then he doubted. Had he been in his native woods in Kauai that low cry would have brought him to Liliha’s arms. How often had she thus greeted him as she came back from beating the _kapa_ in the pools. Alas! nevermore should he see her on this beautiful earth, but, perchance, when the ordeal of the sacrificial oven was passed----

Ah! that _coo-ee_, softly repeated and so near him! He had never thought of Milu--the Hawaiian Pluto--as a benign deity, but now he breathed a thanksgiving to the grim _akua_ that he had permitted the shade of Liliha to come back from the dead. They would keep together, and soon enter the underworld together, and then--who shall separate?

But was it a ghost who cut the thongs which bound him? Was it a ghost who, finger on lip, led him stealthily over the prostrate bodies of the guards, and placed his feet on the downward path? He dared not stop to reflect. His brain whirled. But no sooner were they side by side and hand in hand on the dark plain together than they sped fleetly as though they knew no wound nor fatigue. One thought buoyed them up, one word passed between them, as they gazed half-frightened at each other for one moment. It was the word “_Puuhonua_”--the city of refuge--a word which called up to view an open gate, and white-robed priests with branches of _maile_ who would bid them enter into peace in the name of the gods.

Oh! how long the way was! How dark the road! Never had the sun been so slow rising from its watery bed to look forth once more upon the world from behind the barred cage made by the trunks of the cocoanut palms along the shore!

Light at last--and lo! in the distance before them the long line of stockaded wall, with the guarded gates, and the white flags floating at either end from the lofty spear points. The grim idols along the wall seemed to smile and mock alternately. To smile, as the distance to the gate grew less, to mock, as behind them rose the ferocious yell which proclaimed that the _awa_-drinkers had not long overslept their watch. The same sun which made shine so fair the walls of the city of refuge glinted upon the spears and feather helmets of the pursuers.

Liliha and Kahulu ran like hunted hares, but Nature has her limits. They had done miracles, but even miracles have their laws, and stern Nature would yield no more. They stood between the priests and the pursuers; they saw life before them and death behind them--alas! ineluctable. Then they looked into one another’s faces and saw something stronger than death and better than life itself. So they fell vanquished upon the sand. But as Kahulu fell, he knew a dear, pale face--no ghost--a face scarred with wounds, looking at him with radiant, starlike eyes and--was content.

* * * * *