Part 6

She was a beautiful girl of fifteen, the daughter of a chief named Opunui, and one who had no lack of admirers. Even Kamehameha could not help following her graceful movements with pleasure. But in the heart of one who followed in the king’s train, the warrior Kaaialii, the girl made such instant havoc that it needed only a glance for her to detect the passion she had kindled. And, strange to say, she who had repulsed so many adorers in her native isle, felt herself won in a moment by this tall, sinewy chief from Oahu.

Kaaialii, seeing and reading her smile, apprehended no difficulty in winning her for his wife, but he was overestimating the smoothness of true love’s course.

When he begged Kamehameha to grant him Kaala for a wife, the king made no objection, but ventured to suggest, in justice, a reference to the father, too.

Even this, difficult as it may appear in prospect to most lovers, did not seem a hopeless task to Kaaialii, for he was well known as a warrior and better born than Opunui.

Opunui, however, thought otherwise. He had a grudge against Kaaialii which went back as far as the battle of Maunalei, when they had been opposed in the conflict, and, moreover, there was another suitor, who, although detested by the girl, was more than eligible in the eyes of her father.

This favored one was Mailou, “the bone breaker”--one whose prowess as a wrestler had won the unstinted admiration and regard of the father, but inspired no tender feeling in the breast of the daughter.

Now Opunui was too wise to meet Kamehameha’s request for his daughter with a blunt refusal, and he respected the “bone breaker’s” powers of body too much to cast him aside for another without an effort, so he assumed an air of great deference, told the king how pleased he would be to comply, and how great an honor he would esteem it to have Kaaialii for a son-in-law, but that unfortunately he had pledged his word to his estimable friend Mailou. The only way out of the dilemma, the wily old man suggested, was for Mailou and Kaaialii to wrestle the matter out between them. He would be content to leave the girl in the victor’s hands.

Of course he had such faith in the cruel embrace of the “bone breaker” that he believed it vain for his daughter to aspire to the embrace of Kaaialii.

Everywhere the news of the contest spread, and was received with pleasure, for the Hawaiian needed nothing more than _panem et circenses_ to make up the joy of life. There was only one exception and this was the maiden who was to be chief gainer or loser by the struggle.

She was driven almost to despair by the news, for she knew the deadly strength of Mailou, and could not forget the reports of the many wives he had slain and cast into the sea. She clung to Kaaialii as to one whom she was sending to his death, and yet one in whom was her only hope of life.

Meanwhile the arena was prepared. The two combatants stood face to face--Mailou with his long arms, broad shoulders and mighty limbs, his fingers opening and closing, as if impatient to tear his adversary to pieces--Kaaialii in comparison almost frail and slender, yet with no lack of cheerful confidence expressed in his handsome features.

Kaala knew no more of Shakespeare than Shakespeare knew of her; but, as she gazed trembling at her lover, she felt, with Rosalind:

“The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.”

Then the battle began, a struggle to the death, in which every injury it was possible to inflict was permissible. To the taunts of Mailou, Kaaialii made no reply, but when the “bone breaker” sprang like a wild beast at his throat, his shark-like teeth grinning with anticipated triumph, he was on the alert and, dexterously swinging aside his body, he allowed Mailou to fall headlong to the earth. In another instant he had seized his right arm, and with a skillful kick snapped the bone below the elbow. With a howl of rage Mailou rushed again to the attack, but was felled to the ground and his left arm broken as the right had been. With both arms broken, the furious giant rushed once again at the warrior, charging with lowered head, like a bull. But this was his last charge, for Kaaialii had him by the hair as he fell, and, placing his knee against his back, with a mighty effort broke his spine.

There was general rejoicing at Kaaialii’s victory, for the wrestler, though feared on account of his strength, was too much of a bully to be popular, and only in the heart of Opunui was there any regret at the issue. Opunui, so far from being reconciled to Kaala becoming the wife of Kaaialii, was more than ever determined that the latter should never carry away his prize.

So, although he opposed no word when Kamehameha placed the lovers hand in hand before him and pronounced them married, he formed his plan. With soft, plausible words he approached his daughter, expressing his delight at her happiness, but requesting that she would come with him for the last time to visit her mother, Kalani, and speak the sad words of farewell. The maiden tearfully acquiesced and, assuring Kaaialii of her speedy return, followed her father down the valley of Palawai, towards the Bay of Kaumalapau.

“Why go to the bay, my father, since you say that my mother is ill at Malana?” inquired the girl.

The old hypocrite answered that her mother was at the seashore, where she had prepared a banquet in celebration of her child’s marriage. There were crabs, shrimps, limpets, and all kinds of dainties. Kalani only awaited her husband and daughter.

Arrived at the shore, however, Kaala saw that her mother’s fire was not there, and knew that her father was deceiving her. Glancing up she saw his face lighted with a cruel smile, which no longer concealed his real feelings.

“Listen,” he said, “rather than be the bride of Kaaialii you shall have a shark for your mate, and in his palace beneath the sea I will keep you safe till the king has left Lanai with his warriors.”

The poor girl screamed, for she guessed his purpose, but it was too late to resist. Just below the bench of rock on which they stood, the Spouting Cave roared and foamed. Opunui knew its entrance well, and seizing his daughter in his arms waited for the moment when the column of water settled down into the vortex. Then he sprang and, sinking beneath the surface, the two found themselves drawn swiftly by the current down and down, and then suddenly swept through the entrance into a dark and gloomy cavern.

The greenish light showed even to the fainting girl the horror of her surroundings, and it was as in a dream that she heard her father declare that there she should remain till the hated Kaaialii had given her up and gone. She had barely time to renew her vow of fidelity to her lover before Opunui seized the proper moment, plunged once more into the water and was sucked up with the spouting column into the upper air.

The girl, brought back to consciousness by the very terror of her situation, was left alone to waste her strength in unavailing efforts to return through the water. Alas! this was a feat requiring a strength and a skill far beyond such as hers.

We return to Kaaialii, who was anything but pleased with the bride’s so sudden departure. He followed her with his eyes as long as he could, then he transferred his thoughts to the meeting again on the morrow. But when the morrow came and no Kaala, and, still more, when he learned that Kaala had never been near the hut of Kalani, his heart misgave him.

He started to seek his lost one, and wherever he went signs of evil multiplied. The path of his beloved led to the sea and stopped; Opunui kept out of his way and took refuge in a _puuhonua_; the diviners, whom he consulted, could only tell him:

“The sweet-smelling flower of Lanai is neither in the hills nor in the valleys. Search the sea. There are cliffs that are hollow, and caves beneath the waves.”

With this vague oracle in his mind he wandered along the rocky shore, crying out in his despair:

“O Kaala, Kaala! if living, where sleepest thou? If dead, where rest thy bones?”

Suddenly from the waters below him there seemed to come a voice mounting upward from a wraith of water. He looked below, and the vortex at his feet seemed to call him by name and invite him. She was dead, he thought, her spirit had called! What could he do better than die too?

So with the cry “Kaala” upon his lips, he leaped and was engulfed in the waves which dragged him below as with invisible hands.

A friend following him and knowing that here was the entrance to the Spouting Cave, fled along the rocks and told what he had seen, and in an hour or two Kamehameha himself, rowed by his sturdiest oarsmen, was near the spot in his canoe.

Kaaialii found himself drawn downwards till he no longer believed himself alive. At last his feet gained the sloping beach and he found his head once more above water, but, in the dark, he believed he had arrived in the hall of the dead. The thundering of the breakers sounded above him, life seemed left far behind, but both hope and memory came back with the touch of cold and slimy things crawling over and stinging his flesh. He knew he was alive, and just at that moment a low moan reached his ears which made his heart stand still.

Looking around he saw a dark form upon the strand, and from this direction came the moaning.

He crawled towards it, and had barely reached it ere he heard his name pronounced. It was the body of Kaala he saw before him and the creeping things of the sea were sucking her blood.

Kaaialii flung himself upon her with a passionate kiss.

“O Kaala! Kaaialii is here!” He pushed back her wet hair, took her in his arms, and began to carry her towards the opening of the cave. But with a voice which grew gradually fainter, Kaala told him that she was dying.

“I am so happy that you are here! Lay me down and let me die!”

The smile that played upon her lips testified to her joy, but it also made Kaaialii hope for her life. When, however, he laid his hand upon her heart, it was cold and still. Death had come and found her happy.

But Kaaialii still clasped his precious burden as though waiting for Kaala to awake. He sat in silence, all unconscious of the flight of time, until he was roused from his stupor by a splash.

In another instant came another, and then there rose up from the water two forms: first the figure of Ua, a friend of Kaala, and immediately behind Kamehameha, who had been shown the mouth of the cave and had dauntlessly leaped to wrest from it its secret and his friend.

A swift glance revealed to the king all that had happened. The warrior laid his dead bride beside him, rose to his feet, and with bent head stood before his chief.

The stern monarch was touched with Kaaialii’s unspoken grief. “I see,” he said; “she is dead. Let her rest; she can have no better sepulchre. Come, Kaaialii, let us go.”

Then Kaaialii came to himself. He had never gone further in his thoughts as yet than the discovery of his loved one. Now he knew and faced the consequences.

“Go?” he cried. “Nay, I stay. Oh, my king, never have I disobeyed you before, and never will I disobey you again. But here I must stay. My life ends here.”

With a swift movement he seized a stone, dashed it against his head, crushing into the very brain, then sank lifeless beside the body of Kaala.

Kamehameha left them together, and by-and-by had them wrapped in folds of _kapa_. There their bones lie to-day. Few, however, to-day know the secret of the entrance to Puhio-Kaala.

The minstrels made a dirge about it and in after years, when Kamehameha rested at Kealia or Waipio, there was no _mele_ he loved so well to hear as that which told of the faith of Kaala and Kaaialii:

“Oh! dead is Kaaialii, the young chief of Hawaii, The chief of few years and many battles. His limbs were strong and his heart was gentle. His face was like the sun, and he was without fear. For his love he plunged into the deep waters; For his love he gave his life.”

X

LONO’S LAST MARTYR

The heroes of victory are rarely without their monuments: the heroes of lost causes are too often forgotten. The old order changes, giving place to new, and in course of time we praise the bold innovators who let in the light, but we forget that even the defeated darkness may have its martyrdoms, its faith and its courage worthy of the poet’s song.

It is a story of such heroism as this which gathers round a neglected tumulus, now well nigh hidden in clustering ferns and creeping vines on the island of Hawaii. Not far from Kilau, on the western coast of the island, almost under the shadow of Mauna Hualalai, which rises nearly 9,000 feet above the sea, there is a plain of rough lava, whose barrenness is only in places veiled by tufts of waving grass and by spreading creepers and richly hued flowers. In many places there rise the ruins of former temples and fortifications belonging to the old warlike time. The massive, squarely shapen stones contrast strangely with the spherical volcanic boulders which attest that here Nature has warred as well as man. After traveling over two miles of such country as this you will begin to stumble over frequent heaps of stones well nigh concealed in the grass and ferns. Your imagination suggests graves, rightly so, and you pick your way among them till you come to Kuamoo, where there is an oblong cairn, some ten feet long by six wide, built in the form of a tomb, and almost hidden from sight in the greenery of innumerable ferns and the blossoms of morning glory and passion flower. Well does Nature keep the spot beautiful and fragrant, for here lie side by side the mortal remains of two heroes and two lovers, whom, heathen though they were, the new time will not willingly permit to be forgotten.

It was in the autumn of 1819 that the great change came which has been hailed by many as the day of new birth for the Eight Islands--the abolition of the tabu and the destruction of the idols. We shall not attempt to defend the anterior condition of the island kingdom, but it will be seen in the course of this story that the transition was by no means without its element of danger and mischief.

No darkness could well have been deeper than that of olden Hawaii, with its bloody worship, its human sacrifices, its oppression of the _makaainana_, or common people, and, above all, its tabu. How this pressed with leaden weight upon the people would be almost incredible if described in detail. Suffice it to say that for every act and condition of life there was a tabu, extending to food, dress, etiquette, time, place, labor, and privilege. And for every breach of the tabu there was but one penalty--death.

It might, therefore, be thought that its abolition would be received with universal applause, that only from the hearts of the cruel bigots of heathenism, monsters thirsting for human gore, tyrants ruling by oppression and fraud, would there be a sigh of regret when the death-knell of the old heathenism sounded forth.

This, however, was not the case. Viewing the matter from close quarters we can easily see that the priests and worshippers of Lono, who protested against the act of Liholiho had some justice on their side.

The mighty Kamehameha had breathed his last, and his dust had been hidden away somewhere, where, no one but Hoapili knew, among the mountains of Hawaii. Liholiho, his successor, was under the influence of the queen mother, Kaahumanu, who had long been chafing under the restraints of the tabu upon her sex. He himself, a youth of twenty-two, no stranger, unfortunately, to the fire-water of the whalers, deemed the law of tabu overmuch of a clog on his own princely liberty, and as entailing, moreover, a heavy expenditure for the support of the state idolatry and the maintenance of the priesthood.

Arrived at Kawaihae, he heard of Kaahumanu’s intention to attempt the sacrilege, and, not indisposed to have his own share in the contemplated work, immediately sailed to the south. Landing at Puako, there followed a series of debauches to which the court of Kamehameha had been a stranger. For twenty-four hours the tumultuous merriment went on. The royal party joined the _hula_-dancers in their obscene revelry. They tossed bottles of liquor to the sea gods, inviting them to drink themselves drunk with them, and at last the moment arrived when a public violation of the tabu was to take place, in order to show that the old order had passed forever. This breach with the past was made by the king’s deliberate act of sending prohibited food from his own table to that of the women, and by his taking his own place among them. In a moment the royal example was followed, men and women were eating and drinking promiscuously together, and the feast was no longer “_ai kapu_,” or sacred eating, but “_ai noa_,” or common eating. A few chiefs turned pale in their drunkenness at the outrages offered to their religion and their law, some strode forth indignant and held counsel together, while Liholiho and the high-priest, Hewahewa, with their drunken crew, rode forth to destroy the images of the insulted gods, and the shrines where no sacrifice should be offered more.

We shall not be ashamed to stay among the few still faithful to the old order and its traditions. It is true the tabu was tyrannous and cruel beyond belief, but a cruel code is far better than anarchy, and Liholiho had nothing to put in the place of the tabu but the lawless wantonness of the whalers. Was the liquor of the white men a better inspiration than the will of the chiefs? Had not Kamehameha, to whom the land owed prosperity and peace, deliberately given up drinking the _haole_ gin and expressly warned his people against falling into its pernicious snare? And now had they not lived to see his son, a shameful sight to the people, reeling on horseback, arms and legs extended, raging against the gods of their fathers? If Vancouver had sent the white teacher he had promised they might have heard tidings worth giving ear to, as, rumor had it, had been the case in Tahiti, but surely it was better to keep the old law, by which the chiefs and people alike guided their steps, until they had considered the new!

The chief speaker in the conference was the young and handsome Kekuaokalani, upon whom had fallen the defense of the traditions of church and state. No nobler Hawaiian had ever been listened to by the _alii_. Well nigh seven feet in height, with masses of raven black hair hanging upon his shoulders, perfect in features and form, wise, brave and magnetic, a chief of even bluer blood than his uncle Kamehameha, by his own choice also a priest, equal in learning to Hewahewa, he was a man well fitted to be the leader of a cause however desperate it might appear. Moreover, his marriage with the beautiful Manono, who lived in the light of his love, had touched the sympathy and imaginations of the people, and when he strode forth from the wild revelry of the crowd, bearing in his arms the insulted image of Lono, he may well have seemed a hero, or even a demi-god, to the amazed and troubled people.

Whether ambitious or not, Kekuaokalani conceived that to him had come a charge from the gods to avenge their cause upon a drunken and degenerate king and to take the place before the shrines vacated by the renegade Hewahewa. As for Kaahumanu, he knew her to be a light woman, whose escapades had sorely troubled the heart and patience of Kamehameha. Certainly Lady Pele, goddess of the fire-world, slumbering within the mountain, would protect her honor against law-breakers such as she.

So Kekuaokalani withdrew to Kaaweloa, where the conservative leaders and the priests offered him the crown, with the oracular saying: “A religious chief shall possess the kingdom, but irreligious chiefs shall always be poor.” It was a dangerous honor thus thrust upon him, but he accepted it gladly and prepared for the trial of strength with Liholiho. Many of the people who shared his spirit gathered around him and, when the winter solstice brought with it the annual feast of Lono, the festival was kept with a sincerity and enthusiasm all the more impressive from the presentiment entertained by not a few that it was the last festival which Lono would ever have in Hawaii. It is not a little pathetic to contemplate the people “about to die” face to face with the gods “about to die” for these five strange, sad, festive days.

Meanwhile the work of the royal “reformers” went on throughout the land and a month passed by, during which the news came daily of the pulling down of _heiaus_ and the burning of idols. The king was happy in his iconoclasm, but no word came to him of the preparations of Kekuaokalani. Then suddenly the tidings reached Liholiho that Hamakua was being invaded by the rebels, and that one of the chiefs, Kainapau by name, was slain. Some of the king’s favorites endeavored to belittle the affair and strove to allay the royal alarm by offering, with forty warriors, to suppress the insurrection. Hewahewa, the renegade priest, knew Kekuaokalani better, and declared:

“Not forty times forty will be enough! Kekuaokalani is in the field to conquer or to die!”

Then the alarm was genuine and general, and while the resourceful Kaahumanu bethought herself of the purchase of muskets from the white traders, Liholiho endeavored to quench the fire of rebellion by the sending of an embassy.

Some of the most notable men in the crowd were selected, men close of kin to Kekuaokalani, as well as high in the counsels of Liholiho. There was prominent among them, Naihe, the uncle of the rebel chief, and Kalaimoku, the commander of the king’s forces. And with these was Keopuolani, the bluest blooded queen of Kamehameha.

“We come,” they said, “to make peace between you and the king. Liholiho offers you freedom to follow your own religion if you will consent to lay aside your arms.”

“Alas!” replied the chief, “to what avail is liberty to worship when the gods and the temples are consumed with fire? How can we serve the gods acceptably when the tabu exists no more and men know not what is sacred and what is common?”

“You will have war, then?” asked the ambassadors.