Part 27

As a measure of precaution, in case of disaster, a force sufficient to hold the premises of the high-priest was left within the walls. The advancing army was formed into three divisions, the right commanded by Omaukamau and the left by Piimaiwaa, while Umi remained with the centre. Their orders were to move rapidly, but as quietly as possible, by three different routes, and form a junction at their intersection with the alanui, or great path, leading from the coast to the inland village of Waimea. This junction it was expected the left division, traveling a difficult mountain-path, would be able to reach two or three hours after sunrise.

It was, perhaps, an hour short of midnight when the last of the little army left the enclosure, followed by two or three hundred women bearing food, water, extra weapons and a variety of camp necessaries. The warriors were full of enthusiasm, and when Maukaleoleo stepped in among them from the mountains like a protecting deity their shouts could scarcely be restrained. His appearance was most welcome to Umi, who thanked him warmly for what he had done, and expressed a desire that he would remain near him during the march, as his familiarity with the mountains and their paths would render his advice valuable.

"But I see another mighty friend has opportunely reported," said Umi, pleasantly, as he pointed toward the east. "As the moon is about to look over the hills, the torches may soon be extinguished, for the paths will be plainer without them."

The divisions separated, and, dispensing with their torches, soon swarmed the several paths leading to Waipio. Each division was preceded some distance in its march by a party of scouts, with instructions to let no one pass to their front, lest he might be a messenger of warning.

The paths were rough and in places almost choked with undergrowth, and the advance was exceedingly laborious; but no word of complaint was heard, and about the middle of the forenoon the left division, and the last to arrive, reached the Waimea trail at a point leaving the entire force but a short march to Waipio. A brief halt was ordered, and the food and water brought by the women were served to their relatives, and to others if any remained.

Taking no thought of himself, Umi advised his attendants to eat if they could find food, declaring that he required nothing, and then threw himself under the shade of a tree for a few minutes of much-needed rest. A cool breeze fanned his heated face, on which the beard had as yet grown but lightly, and his heavy eyelids closed, dropping him gently into the land of shadows, where he bathed in cool waters and partook of food that was delicious--more delicious, it seemed, because it was served by Kulamea.

Something awoke him--he scarcely knew what--and his eyes caught the form of a woman as it vanished behind the tree under which he was lying. He smiled, and, partially rising, discovered on the ground beside him a calabash of poi, reduced with water to the consistency of thick gruel. His mouth and throat were parched, and, without stopping to learn who had provided it, he raised the vessel to his lips and drained it to the bottom. It was a goodly draught, and refreshed him greatly.

Holding the empty calabash in his hand, he began to examine it, at first carelessly, and then with greater interest, for it was not a common vessel. Nor was it the first time that he had seen it. It was the calabash he had carved with images of birds and flowers for Kulamea before he went to Waipio to become the son of a king.

He beckoned to Maukaleoleo, who was leaning against a tree a few paces distant, with his head among the branches. The giant smiled as he approached, as if divining the question Umi was about to ask.

"Did you see the person who left this calabash?" inquired Umi, exhibiting the vessel.

"I saw her," replied the giant.

"Then it was left by a woman?"

"By a woman."

"Did you observe her?"

"As closely as I ever observe any woman."

"What was her appearance?"

"Ordinary men would describe her, I presume, as being young, graceful and attractive."

"And you?"

"I would call her a plaything, as I would any other woman whose head did not touch my beard."

"True," said Umi, smiling as his fancy pictured a becoming mate for the giant; "you can know but little of women. But would you recognize the plaything who left this calabash, were you to see her again?"

The giant intimated that he would probably recognize her.

"Then seek among the women of the camp, and, if found, say to her for Umi that if she prizes the calabash he will return it to her, if she will claim it after the sun sets to-day and show that she is the rightful owner."

Maukaleoleo bowed and departed on his errand, and Umi hung the calabash at his girdle.

Another advance was ordered, and in an hour or less the little army lay hidden along the brow of the ragged hills overlooking the valley of Waipio on the south and east and extending to the sea. A fleet messenger was despatched over the hills to a waterfall, the sound of which could be heard dropping into the valley from a great height in an unbroken cataract. He returned, bringing with him a strangely-marked piece of kapa which he had found suspended from a limb near the verge of the fall.

It was the final signal of Nunu, and implied that the king's attendants had been sent to the mountains and sea-shore, and the palace was defenceless. Preparations were made for an immediate descent into the valley. As the paths leading down were tortuous and narrow, the warriors were ordered to break ranks and make the descent as rapidly and as best they could, and promptly re-form on reaching the valley.

The word was given, and the advance began. First the summit bristled with spears, then down the hillsides swept a swarm of armed men. In their rapid descent they seemed to be hopelessly scattered, but they re-formed on reaching the valley, and in good order advanced toward the little stream, across which was the royal mansion, and not far from it the temple of Paakalani.

The wildest excitement prevailed in the village. Some seized their arms, and others ran toward the hills, but no opposition was offered. At the head of the little army marched Umi, himself almost a giant, and by his side the mighty Maukaleoleo, naked but for the maro about his loins, and bearing a ponderous spear, the ivory point of which could be seen above the tree-tops.

Plunging into and crossing the stream, detachments were despatched at a running pace to surround the royal enclosure and cut off all escape, especially to the puhonui, while with the main force Umi advanced to the great gate of the outer wall, which had been hastily closed and fastened, and demanded admission. No reply being made, although a confusion of voices could be heard from within Umi was about to order up a force to beat down the gate when Maukaleoleo leaned his spear against the wall, and, laying hold of a rock which no two other men could lift, hurled it against the gate, and it was torn from its fastenings as if struck by a missile from Kilauea. He then seized the broken obstruction and flung it from the entrance as if it had been a screen of matting, and Umi and his followers poured into the enclosure. Driving before them a score or two of hastily-armed attendants of the king, they raised a wild battle-shout and rushed toward the palace.

So secret had been the movement of the insurgents, and so rapid was their advance after reaching the valley, that Hakau was not made aware of their presence until they began to cross the stream near the royal mansion. The first information bewildered him. Recovering, he ordered the gates to be closed and barred, and every one to arm within the grounds. A messenger was sent to mount the walls and report the probable number of the assailants; but the most of them were in the stream at the moment of observation, and the king was relieved with the assurance that the force did not number more than one or two hundred.

"Then we can beat them off until assistance comes," said Hakau, confidently. "Hold the gates with your lives!" he shouted; then, hastily entering the mua, he took from the ipu in which it was deposited the Kiha-pu, the sacred war-trumpet of the Hawaiian kings, and sprang to the front of the palace. He placed the shell to his lips to sound a blast of alarm, which with the breath of Liloa was wont to swell throughout a radius of ten or twelve miles. Filling his lungs for a mighty effort, which he doubted not would bring to his assistance the villagers and feather-hunters despatched to the hills, he wound a blast through the shell. But no such voice ever issued before from the mysterious chambers of the Kiha-pu. Instead of a note of alarm swelling over the hills in wild and warlike cadence, they gave forth a dreadful discord of torture-wrung screams and groans, horrifying all within the walls, but scarcely audible beyond them.

Hakau dropped the shell to the earth as if his lips had been burned with its kiss, and with a feeling of desperation seized a javelin and grimly awaited the onset at the gate. His suspense was brief. The gate went down with a crash; and when he saw his handful of defenders retire before the incoming flood of warriors led by Umi, Hakau retreated to the mua with three or four of his attendants, where he resolved to defend himself to the death.

The door of the mua was scarcely barred before Umi reached it. A hundred warriors pressed forward, but he waved them back. He looked at Maukaleoleo, and the next moment the door was a mass of splinters. Umi resolutely stepped within, Kaoleioku, the warrior-priest, at his side. As he entered, with a hiss Hakau made a thrust at him with his javelin. Umi caught and wrenched the weapon from his grasp, and was about to strike when Kaoleioku stayed every uplifted hand by exclaiming:

"Hold! Let this be a sacrifice, and not a murder! In the name of the gods I slay him!"

With these words the high-priest drove his ihe through the heart of Hakau, and he fell dying at the feet of Umi.

Hakau strove to speak, but his words were bitter and choked him.

"Bear him with respect to a couch," said Umi. "He is the son of a king, and so let him die."

His orders were obeyed, and Hakau, the tyrant king of Hawaii, breathed his last as Umi turned and left the mua.

The palace was now in the possession of Umi, with its gods, its sacred emblems, its royal regalia and all the paraphernalia of supreme authority; but he appreciated that much remained to be done, and that, too, without delay. The feather-hunters would soon return from the hills and sea-shore; but they could be dealt with in detail as they arrived in small parties, and were, therefore, not greatly to be feared. The distant chiefs summoned by the lunapais of the dead king were the principal cause of anxiety. Some time during the next day they would begin to arrive with their quotas of warriors, and Umi was not quite confident that they would accept the situation peacefully.

To be prepared for any emergency, he ordered his entire force to quarters within the palace grounds, despatched parties to procure supplies of food, received the allegiance of the attendants and guards found in and around the royal mansion, and sent out heralds to proclaim the death of Hakau by the will of the gods, and the assumption of sovereign authority by Umi, the son of Liloa.

The Kiha-pu was discovered near the door, where it had been dropped by Hakau. No one dared to touch it. It was recognized by a chief who had seen it before, and who guarded it until Umi appeared. The chief pointed to the sacred shell, and with an exclamation of joy Umi raised it to his lips and sounded a vigorous blast, which swept over the valleys and echoed through the hills with its old-time voice of thunder.

All within the walls were startled. Kaoleioku approached, and Umi raised the shell and repeated the sonorous blast. "It is not the breath of Umi," said the priest, impressively; "it is the voice of the gods proclaiming their approval of the work of this day!"

The body of Hakau was removed to a small structure within the enclosure, where it was given in charge of his wife and mother, Kukukalani and Pinea, and their attendants, to be prepared for burial. And Kapukini, the sister of Hakau and half-sister of Umi, mourned with them; but her grief was not great, for Hakau had been unkind even to her.

Before nightfall the feather-hunters began to come in; but the situation was made known to them on reaching the valley, and such of them as were not deterred by fear proceeded to the palace and gave their adherence to Umi, thus relieving him of some slight cause of apprehension, and considerably augmenting the strength of his little army.

Umi's promise to his warriors was made good, for that night they ate their meat in peace within the palace-walls at Waipio. All needed rest, but not one of them more than Umi himself. The night was dark, but the air was cool without, and after his evening meal Umi strolled out and threw himself down on a fold of kapa under the palms in front of the mansion. He was soon joined by Kaoleioku, his trusty lieutenants Omaukamau and Piimaiwaa, and several chiefs of distinction.

The events of the day were being discussed, and the possibilities of the morrow, when Maukaleoleo loomed up in the darkness like the shadow of a palm, and requested permission to approach the group. It was granted, of course, for the giant had proven himself to be one of the stanchest and most valuable of Umi's friends. But he was not alone. Behind him, and almost hidden by his burly form, walked Kulamea. She wore a pau of five folds, and over her shoulders a light kihei of ornamented kapa. Her black hair fell below her waist, and a woven band of blossoms encircled her head.

"By your instruction," said the giant, bowing before Umi, "I sought out the woman who left with you beyond the hills to-day a curiously-carved calabash, and acquainted her with your wish that she should come to you and claim it. But she feared to do so, because you are now the king of Hawaii."

"Were I the king of the eight Hawaiian seas she should not fear," replied Umi. "Seek and say to her--"

"Let Umi speak the words himself," interrupted the giant; saying which, he advanced a few paces into a better light, and, stepping aside, Kulamea stood revealed before the group.

"Kulamea!" exclaimed Umi, rising.

"Kulamea!" repeated Omaukamau, in astonishment, for he did not know before that his sister was in Waipio. "What evil spirit prompted you to venture here at such a time as this?"

"Do not chide her, Omaukamau," said Umi, placing his hand tenderly upon the shoulder of the fair playmate of his youth. "The triumph of to-day is as much to her as it is to her brave brother, and no one could be more welcome."

Omaukamau was silent, and Kulamea sank on her knees before Umi. He raised her to her feet and kissed her; then, taking from his girdle and placing in her hands the calabash she had come to claim, he said:

"In the presence of all here Umi returns this calabash to Kulamea, his wife!" Then, leading her to her brother, he continued: "Give her attendants, and see that she is provided with all else that befits her station." Omaukamau kissed his sister, and led her into the mansion.

During this scene Maukaleoleo stood looking down upon the group with folded arms and an amused expression upon his face.

"Perhaps I should have asked your consent," said Umi, smiling and looking up into the face of the giant.

"Umi is now in a condition to take from his subjects without asking," pertinently replied the monster; "but in this instance there seems to be no other claimant, and the title is unquestioned."

"And have I your approval as well?" inquired Umi, more seriously, addressing Kaoleioku.

"Better than mine," replied the priest, warmly: "you have the approval of the gods; for in fulfilling your pledge to a simple and confiding woman you have kept faith with them."

The rest of the prominent events leading to, and connected with, the accession of Umi to the moiship of Hawaii, will be very briefly referred to. As the district chiefs and their warriors arrived at Waipio in response to the call of the dead king, they accepted the changed conditions without protest, and promptly tendered their allegiance to Umi.

The second day after his death Hakau's remains were quietly and without display taken to the hills and entombed, and the day following Umi was publicly anointed king of Hawaii in the presence of nearly ten thousand warriors. The games and festivities of the occasion continued for ten days.

The Akuapaao was placed in the temple of Paakalani, and at the death of the venerable Laeanui, which occurred shortly after, Kaoleioku, who was of the family of Paao, was created high priest.

Omaukamau and Piimaiwaa became the confidential advisers of Umi, as well as his favorite military captains, and Maukaleoleo served in his many campaigns, his strength and prowess furnishing subjects for numerous strange stories still living in Hawaiian tradition.

LONO AND KAIKILANI.

CHARACTERS.

Keawenui, king of Hawaii. Kanaloa-kuaana, Lonoikamakahiki and Pupuakea sons of Keawenui by different mothers. Kukailani, nephew of Keawenui. Kaikilani, daughter of Kukailani. Kakuhihewa, king of Oahu. Lanahuimihaku, a chief of Oahu. Ohaikawiliula, a chiefess of Kauai. Heakekoa, a man of Molokai. Kaikinane, a woman of Molokai.

LONO AND KAIKILANI.

A ROMANTIC EPISODE IN THE ROYAL ANNALS.

I.

What a hustling and barbaric little world in themselves were the eight habitable islands of the Hawaiian archipelago before the white man came to rouse the simple but warlike islanders from the dream they had for centuries been living! Up to that time their national life had been a long romance, abundant in strife and deeds of chivalry, and scarcely less bountiful in episodes of love, friendship and self-sacrifice. Situated in mid-ocean, their knowledge of the great world, of which their island dots on the bosom of the Pacific formed but an infinitesimal portion, did not reach beyond a misty Kahiki, from which their fathers came some centuries before, and the bare names of other lands marking the migratory course of their ancestors thither.

The Hawaiians were barbarous, certainly, since they slew their prisoners of war, and to their gods made sacrifice of their enemies; since no tie of consanguinity save that of mother and son was a bar to wedlock; since murder was scarcely a crime, and the will of the alii-nui on every island was the supreme law; since the masses were in physical bondage to their chiefs and in mental slavery to the priesthood. Yet, with all this, they were a brave, hospitable and unselfish people. The kings of the islands of Hawaii, Maui, Oahu and Kauai were in almost continual warfare with each other until brought under one government by Kamehameha I.; but the fear of foreign invasion never disturbed them, and the people, who feared their gods, reverenced their rulers and possessed an easy and unfailing means of sustenance and personal comfort, were content with a condition which had been theirs for generations and was hopeless of amelioration; for the high chiefs in authority claimed a lineage distinct from that of the masses, and between them frowned a gulf socially and politically impassable.

The Hawaiians were never cannibals. The most conspicuous of their barbarisms was the sacrifice of human beings to their gods; but did not the temples of early Gaul and Saxon flow with the blood of men? and did not one of the fathers of Israel sharpen his knife to slay the body of his son upon the altar of the God of Abraham? They knew but little of the arts as we know them now, and the useful and precious metals were all unknown to them; yet they made highways over the precipices, reared massive walls of stone around their temples, carried effective weapons into battle, and constructed capacious single and double canoes and barges, which they navigated by the light of the stars. They had no language either of letters or symbolism, but so accurately were their legends preserved and transmitted that the great chiefs were able to trace their ancestry back, generation by generation, to something like a kinship with the children of Jacob, and even beyond in the same manner to Noah, and thence to Adam. What wonder, then, that under their old kings the islands of Hawaii should have been the home of romance, and that the south wind should have sighed in numbers through the caves of Kona?

And now, borne by the soft breath of the tropics, let us be wafted to the island of Hawaii, and backward over a misty bridge of historic meles to the reign of Kealiiokoloa, a son of Umi and grandson of the famed Liloa. It was during his brief reign--extending, perhaps, from 1520 to 1530--that for a second time a white face was seen by the Hawaiians. A Spanish vessel from the Moluccas was driven upon the reefs of Keei, in the district of Kona, and completely destroyed. But two persons were saved from the wreck--the captain and his sister. They were first thought to be gods by the simple islanders; but as their first request was for food, which they ate with avidity, and their next for rest, which seemed to be as necessary to them as to other mortals, they were soon relieved of their celestial attributes and conducted to the king, who received them graciously and took them under his protection. The captain--named by the natives Kukanaloa--wedded a dusky maiden of good family, and the sister became the wife of a chief in whose veins ran royal blood.

On the death of Kealiiokoloa his younger brother, Keawenui, assumed the sceptre in defiance of the right of Kukailani, his nephew and son of the dead king, who was too young to assert his authority. This he was the better enabled to do in consequence of the sudden death of the king, possibly by poison, before his successor had been formally named. Keawenui's usurpation, however, was resisted by the leading chiefs of the island, who refused to recognize his authority and rose in arms against him. But he inherited something of the martial prowess of his father, Umi, and, meeting the revolted chiefs before they had time to properly organize their forces, destroyed them in detail, and thereafter reigned in peace. Nor could it well have been otherwise, for the bones of the rebellious chiefs of Kohala, Hamakua, Hilo, Puna, Kau and Kona were among the trophies of his household, and Kukailani, lacking ambition, was content with the lot of idleness and luxury which the crafty uncle placed at his command.

And thus, while Keawenui continued in the moiship of Hawaii, Kukailani, the rightful ruler, grew to manhood around the court of his uncle. In due time the prince married, and among the children born to him was Kaikilani, the heroine of this little story. At the age of fifteen she was the most lovely of the maidens of Hawaii. Her face was fairer than any other in Hilo, to which place Keawenui had removed his court; and that is saying much, for the king was noted for his gallantries, and the handsomest women in the kingdom were among his retainers. If her complexion was a shade lighter than that of others, it was because of the Castilian blood that had come to her through her grandmother, the sister of Kukanaloa, and brighter eyes than hers never peered through the lattices of the Guadalquivir.

Kaikilani became the wife of the king's eldest son, Kanaloa-kuaana, and, in further atonement of the wrong he had done her father, on his death-bed Keawenui formally conferred upon her the moiship of Hawaii. Among the other sons left by Keawenui at his death was Lono. His full name was Lonoikamakahiki. His mother was Haokalani, in whose veins ran the best blood of Oahu.