Then the lame marshal came and stood before the King and said: “Your bones shall rest in peace, Kalani. You had better send now and summon your son-in-law to come and stand before me; for he is the man.” Then Kakuhihewa arose and went himself to the house of his son-in-law, and called to his daughters that he had come to get their husband to go and stand before Maliuhaaino.

Then Kalelealuaka lifted up the mats of his bed and took out the feather cloaks and the helmets and arrayed his two wives, and Kaluhe, and himself. Putting them in line, he stationed the elder of his wives first, next to her the younger, and third Kaluhe, and placing himself at the rear of the file, he gave the order to march, and thus accompanied he went forth to obey the King’s command.

The lame marshal saw them coming, and in ecstasy he prostrated himself and rolled over in the dust, “The feather cloak and the helmet on your elder daughter are the ones taken from the captain of Kualii’s army in the first day’s fight; those on your second daughter from the captain of the second day’s fight; while those on Kalelealuaka himself are from the captain killed in the battle on the fourth day. You will live, but perhaps I shall die, since he is weary of carrying me.”

Then Kalelealuaka bared his left arm and displayed his wound to the astonished multitude. Thereupon Kakuhihewa said: “Kalelealuaka and my daughters, do you take charge of the kingdom, and I will pass into the ranks of the common people under you.”

X

Stories of the Menehunes

Hawaii the Original Home of the Brownies

Thos. G. Thrum

Students of Hawaiian folk-lore find much of coincident interest with traditional or more historic beliefs of other and older lands. The same applies, in a measure, to some of the ancient customs of the people. This is difficult to account for, more especially since the Hawaiians possessed no written language by which such knowledge could be preserved or transmitted. Fornander and others discovered in the legends of this people traces of the story of the Flood, the standing still of the sun, and other narratives of Bible history, which some savants accept as evidence of their Aryan origin. This claim we are not disposed to dispute, but desire to present another line of tradition that has been neglected hitherto, yet has promise of much interest.

It will doubtless interest some readers to learn that Hawaii is the real home of the Brownies, or was; and that this adventurous nomadic tribe were known to the Hawaiians long before Swift’s satirical mind conceived his Lilliputians.

Meeting thus with occasional references to this active race, but mostly in a vague way, it has been a matter of interesting inquiry among Hawaiians, some of whom were noted kaao, or legend-bearers, for further knowledge on the subject. Very naturally their ideas differ respecting the Menehunes. Some treat the subject with gravity and respect, and express the belief that they were the original inhabitants of these islands, but gradually gave way to the heavier-bodied ancestors of the present race; others consider that the history of the race has been forgotten through the lapse of ages; while the more intelligent and better educated look upon the Menehunes as a mythical class of gnomes or dwarfs, and the account of their exploits as having been handed down by tradition for social entertainment, as other peoples relate fairy stories.

In the following account and selection of stories gathered from various native sources, as literal a rendition as possible has been observed by the translators for the better insight it gives of Hawaiian thought and character.

When the work was finished Pi served out food for the Menehunes, which consisted of shrimps (opae), this being the only kind to be had in sufficient quantity to supply each with a fish to himself. They were well supplied and satisfied, and at dawn returned to the mountains of Puukapele rejoicing, and the hum of their voices gave rise to the saying, “Wawa ka Menehune i Puukapele, ma Kauai, puoho ka manu o ka loko o Kawainui ma Koolaupoko, Oahu”—the hum of the voices of the Menehunes at Puukapele, Kauai, startled the birds of the pond of Kawainui, at Koolaupoko Oahu.

The auwai, or watercourse, of Pi is still to be seen at Kikiaola.

At one time Pi also told the Menehunes to wall in a fish-pond at the bend of the Huleia River. They commenced work toward midnight, but at dawn the walls of the pond were not sufficiently finished to meet, so it was left incomplete, and has remained so to this day.

After a long absence Laka asked for his father, and his mother referred him to his grandmother, who, on being questioned, told him that his father went to Hawaii, and was supposed to be dead. Laka then asked for means by which he could search for his father.

His grandmother replied: “Go to the mountains and look for the tree that has leaves shaped like the moon on the night of Hilo, or Hoaka; such is the tree for a canoe.”

Laka followed this advice, and went to the mountains to find the tree for his canoe. Finding a suitable one, he commenced to cut in the morning, and by sundown he had felled it to the ground. This accomplished, he went home. Returning the next day, to his surprise he could not find his fallen tree, so he cut down another, with the same result. Laka was thus tricked for several days, and in his perplexity consulted again with his grandmother, who sent him off with the same advice as before, to look for the crescent-shaped leaf.

While thus waiting, he heard some one talking about raising the tree and returning it to its former position, followed by someone chanting as follows:

Kekupua and his men returned to their chief and reported their unsuccessful search for a suitable koa (Acacia koa) tree for the desired canoe, and related also the incident at Waolani. Kakae, being a descendant of the Menehunes, knew immediately the authors of the strange occurrence. He therefore instructed Kekupua to proceed to Makaho and Kamakela and to stay there till the night of Kane, then go up to Puunui and wait till hearing the hum and noise of the Menehunes, which would be the signal of their finishing the canoe. And thus it was; the Menehunes, having finished the canoe, were ready to pull it to the sea. He directed them to look sharp, and two men would be noticed holding the ropes at the pu (or head) of the canoe. One of them would leap from one side to the other; he was the director of the work and was called pale. There would be some men farther behind, holding the kawelewele, or guiding-ropes. They were the kahunas that superintended the construction of the canoe. He reminded them to remember these directions, and when they saw these men, to give them orders and show them the course to take in pulling the canoe to the sea.

Thus, even with the help of the Menehunes, the wife of Kakae was not satisfied in her desire.

Another temple of their erection was at Pepeekeo, Hilo, the peculiarity of the work being that the stones had been brought together by the residents of that part of the district, by direction of the chief, but that in one night, the Menehunes gathered together and built it. The chief and his people were surprised on coming the next morning to resume their labors, to find the heiau completed.

XI

Kahalaopuna, Princess of Manoa

Mrs. E. M. Nakuina

A house was built for Kahalaopuna at Kahaiamano on the road to Waiakekua, where she lived with a few attendants. The house was surrounded by a fence of auki (dracæna), and a puloulou (sign of kapu) was placed on each side of the gate, indicative of forbidden ground. The puloulou were short, stout poles, each surmounted by a ball of white kapa cloth, and indicated that the person or persons inhabiting the premises so defined were of the highest rank, and sacred.

Kahalaopuna was very beautiful from her earliest childhood. Her cheeks were so red and her face so bright that a glow emanated therefrom which shone through the thatch of her house when she was in; a rosy light seemed to envelop the house, and bright rays seemed to play over it constantly. When she went to bathe in the spring below her house, the rays of light surrounded her like a halo. The natives maintain that this bright light is still occasionally seen at Kahaiamano, indicating that the spirit of Kahalaopuna is revisiting her old home.

She looked at him some time and, recognizing him from oft repeated descriptions, asked him to enter; but Kauhi refused, and asked her to come outside. The young girl had been so accustomed from early childhood to consider herself as belonging to Kauhi, and of being indebted to him, as it were, for her daily food, that she obeyed him unhesitatingly.

He perhaps intended to kill her then, but the girl’s unhesitating obedience as well as her extreme loveliness made him hesitate for a while; and after looking intently at her for some time he told her to go and bathe and then prepare herself to accompany him in a ramble about the woods.

When she was ready he motioned her to follow him, and turned to go without a word. They went across Kumakaha to Hualea, when the girl said, “Why don’t you stay and have something to eat before we go?”

He answered rather surlily, “I don’t care to eat; I have no appetite.”

He looked so sternly at her as he said this that she cried out to him, “Are you annoyed with me? Have I displeased you in any way?”

He only said, “Why, what have you done that would displease me?”

He kept on his way, she following, till they came to a large stone in Aihualama, when he turned abruptly and, facing the young girl, looked at her with an expression of mingled longing and hate. At last, with a deep sigh, he said, “You are beautiful, my betrothed, but, as you have been false, you must die.”

But Kauhi would not listen to her appeal. Perhaps it only served to remind him of what he considered was his great loss. He struck her across the temple with the heavy bunch of hala nuts he had broken off at Mahinauli, and which he had been holding all the time. The blow killed the girl instantly, and Kauhi hastily dug a hole under the side of the rock and buried her; then he started down the valley toward Waikiki.

As soon as he was gone, a large owl, who was a god, and a relative of Kahalaopuna, and had followed her from home, immediately set to digging the body out; which done, it brushed the dirt carefully off with its wings and, breathing into the girl’s nostrils, restored her to life. It rubbed its face against the bruise on the temple, and healed it immediately. Kauhi had not advanced very far on his way when he heard the voice of Kahalaopuna singing a lament for his unkindness, and beseeching him to believe her, or, at least, prove his accusation.

In the meantime, the spirit of the murdered girl discovered itself to a party who were passing by; and one of them, a young man, moved with compassion, went to the tree indicated by the spirit, and, removing the dirt and roots, found the body, still warm. He wrapped it in his kihei (shoulder scarf), and then covered it entirely with maile, ferns, and ginger, and, making a haawe, or back-load, of it, carried it to his home at Kamoiliili. There, he submitted the body to his elder brother, who called upon two spirit sisters of theirs, with whose aid they finally succeeded in restoring it to life. In the course of the treatment she was frequently taken to an underground water-cave, called Mauoki, for the Kakelekele (hydropathic cure). The water-cave has ever since been known as the “Water of Kahalaopuna.”

The young man who had rescued her from the grave naturally wanted her to become his bride; but the girl refused, saying that as long as Kauhi lived she was his, and none other’s, as her very body was, as it were, nourished on his food, and was as much his property as the food had been.

One day, when Kauhi was playing, this young man placed himself on the opposite side, and as Kauhi ceased, took up the kilu and chanted the first of Kahalaopuna’s meles.

Kauhi was very much surprised, and contrary to the etiquette of the game of kilu, stopped him in his play to ask him where he had learned that song. The young man answered he had learned it from Kahalaopuna, the famous Manoa beauty, who was a friend of his sister’s and who was now on a visit at their house. Kauhi, knowing the owl had deserted the body of the girl, felt certain that she was really dead, and accused the other of telling a lie. This led to an angry and stormy scene, when the antagonists were parted by orders of the King.

This was just what the young man had been scheming to compass, and he quickly assented to the challenge, calling on the King and chiefs to take notice of the terms of agreement, and to see that they were enforced.

On the appointed day Kahalaopuna went to Waikiki, attended by her parents, relatives, servants, and the two spirit sisters, who had assumed human form for that day so as to accompany their friend and advise her in case of necessity. Akaaka, the grandfather, who had been residing in Waikiki some little time previous to the dispute between the young men, was appointed one of the judges at the approaching trial.

When Kahalaopuna and party were on the road to the scene of the test, her spirit friends informed her of the a-pe leaves, and advised her to trample on them so as to tear them as much as possible, as they, being spirits, would be unable to tear the leaves on which they should be seated, and if any one’s attention were drawn to them, they would be found out and killed by the poe po-i uhane (spirit catchers).

The young girl faithfully performed what was required of her. Kaea, on seeing the torn leaves, remarked that she was evidently human, but that he felt the presence of spirits, and would watch for them, feeling sure they were in some way connected with the girl. Akaaka then told him to look in a calabash of water, when he would in all probability see the spirits. The seer, in his eagerness to unravel the mystery, forgot his usual caution and ordered a vessel of water to be brought, and, looking in, he saw only his own reflection. Akaaka at that moment caught the reflection of the seer (which was his spirit), and crushed it between his palms, and at that moment the seer dropped down dead. Akaaka now turned around and opened his arms and embraced Kahalaopuna, thus acknowledging her as his own beloved granddaughter.

Two large imus (ground ovens) had been heated by the followers of the young men, in anticipation of the possible fate of either, and Kauhi, with the two mischief-makers and such of their respective followers and retainers as preferred to die with their chiefs, were baked therein.

The greater number of Kauhi’s people were so incensed with his cruelty to the lovely young girl that they transferred their allegiance to her, offering themselves for her vassals as restitution, in a measure, for the undeserved sufferings borne by her at the hands of their cruel chief.

The King gave her for a bride to the young man who had not only saved her, but had been the means of avenging her wrongs.

Kahalaopuna lived happily with her husband for about two years. Her grandfather, knowing of Kauhi’s transformation, and aware of his vindictive nature, strictly forbade her from ever going into the sea. She remembered and heeded the warning during those years, but one day, her husband and all their men having gone to Manoa to cultivate kalo (Colocasia antiquorum), she was left alone with her maid servants.

The surf on that day was in fine sporting condition, and a number of young women were surf-riding, and Kahalaopuna longed to be with them. Forgetting the warning, as soon as her mother fell asleep she slipped out with one of her maids and swam out on a surf-board. This was Kauhi’s opportunity, and as soon as she was fairly outside the reef he bit her in two and held the upper half of the body up out of the water, so that all the surf-bathers would see and know that he had at last obtained his revenge.

He swam just far enough below the surface of the water to be visible, and yet too far to be reached with effect by the fishing-spears of the pursuers. He led them a long chase to Waianae; then, in a sandy opening in the bottom of the sea, where everything was visible to the pursuers, he ate up the young woman, so that she could never again be restored to this life.

Her parents, on hearing of her end, retired to Manoa Valley, and gave up their human life, resolving themselves into their supernatural elements. Kahaukani, the father, is known as the Manoa wind, but his usual and visible form is the grove of ha-u (hibiscus) trees, below Kahaiamano. Kauakuahine, the mother, assumed her rain form, and is very often to be met with about the former home of her beloved child.

XII

The Punahou Spring

Mrs. E. M. Nakuina

It seems the mother of the children had been “uhae ia” at her death. That is, certain prayers, invocations, fasting, and humiliation had been performed by certain relatives of the deceased, and quantities of prepared awa, black, unblemished pig, red fish, and all the customary food of the gods, had been prepared and offered with the object of strengthening the spirit of the departed and of attracting it strongly, as well as giving it a sort of power and control over mundane affairs and events. So when Hawea began to persecute her stepchildren, the spirit of their own mother would assist and protect them.

When their potato tubers were fit to be eaten, the brother (Waahila Rain) made a double imu (oven), having a kapu, or sacred side, for his food and a noa, or free side, for his sister. The little cave that was their dwelling was also divided in two, a sacred and a free part, respectively, for brother and sister. The cave can still be seen, and the wall of stone dividing it in two was still intact a few years ago, as also was the double imu. In olden times it was tabooed to females to appear at any eating-place of the males.

One day the sister, Kauakiowao, told her brother that she wanted to bathe, and complained of their having taken up their residence in a place where no water could be found. Her brother hushed her complaint by telling her that it was a safe place, and one where their stepmother would not be likely to look for them, but he would try to get her some water. In his trips around the neighborhood for fruit and greens he had noticed a large rain-water pond to the east of the hill on which they dwelt. This pond was called Kanawai. Here he sometimes came to snare wild ducks. He also had met and knew the Kakea water god, a moo, who had charge of and controlled all the water sources of Manoa and Makiki Valleys. This god was one of the ancestors of the children on the mother’s side, and was on the best of terms with Waahila rain. The boy paid him a visit, and asked him to assist him to open a watercourse from the pond of Kanawai to a place he indicated in front of and below the caves inhabited by himself and his sister. The old water god not only consented to help his young relative, but promised to divide the water supply of the neighboring Wailele spring, and let it run into the watercourse that the boy would make, thus insuring its permanence.

Kauawaahila afterward made some kalo patches, and people, attracted by the water and consequent fertility of the place, came and settled about, voluntarily offering themselves as vassals to the twins. More and more kalo patches were excavated, and the place became a thriving settlement. The spring became known as Ka Punahou (the new spring), and gave its name to the surrounding place.

About this time Kahaakea returned, and hearing of the persecutions to which his beloved children had been subjected, killed Hawea and then himself. Rocky Hill, the home of the children, was called after him, and is known by that name to the present day. Hawea has ever since then been a synonyme in the Hawaiian mind for a cruel stepmother.

They also occasionally visited Punahou, which was under their especial care and protection; but when the land and spring passed into the hands of foreigners, who did not pay homage to the twins, and who allowed the springs to be defiled by the washing of unclean articles and by the bathing of unclean persons, the twins indignantly left the place, and retired to the head of Manoa Valley.

XIII

Oahunui

Mrs. E. M. Nakuina

On the plateau lying between Ewa and Waialua, on the island of Oahu, and about a mile off, and mauka of the Kaukonahua bridge, is the historical place called Kukaniloko. This was the ancient birthplace of the Oahu kings and rulers. It was incumbent on all women of the royal line to retire to this place when about to give birth to a child, on pain of forfeiting the rank, privileges, and prerogatives of her expected offspring, should that event happen in a less sacred place.

A few miles mauka of Kukaniloko, toward the Waimea Mountains, is Helemano, where the last of the cannibal chiefs from the South Seas finally settled when driven from the plains of Mokuleia and Waialua by the inhabitants of those districts; for the people had been exasperated by the frequent requisitions on the kamaainas (original inhabitants) by the stranger chiefs to furnish material for their cannibal feasts.

To the east of Helemano, and about the same distance from Kukaniloko, is Oahunui (Greater Oahu), another historical place. This was the residence of the kings of the island. Tradition has it that previous to the advent of the cannibal strangers the place was known by another name.

When the Lo Aikanaka, as the last of the man-eating chiefs are called, were constrained to take up their residence in upper Helemano, a district just outside of the boundaries of those reserved for the royal and priestly residences, a young man called Oahunui was king. An elder sister named Kilikiliula, who had been as a mother to him, was supposed to share equally with him the royal power and prerogative. This sister was married to a chief named Lehuanui, of the priestly line, but one not otherwise directly connected with royalty, and was the mother of three children; the two eldest being boys and the youngest a girl. They all lived together in the royal enclosure, but in separate houses, according to ancient custom.

Oahunui was quite captivated by the plausible, suave manners of the ingratiating southern chief and those of his immediate retainers, and he invited them to a feast.

This civility was reciprocated, and the King dined with the strangers. Here it was strongly suspected that the dish of honor placed before the King was human flesh, served under the guise of pork.

The King found the dish very much to his liking, and intimated to the Lo Aikanaka chief that his aipuu-puu (chief cook or steward) understood the preparation and cooking of pork better than the royal cook did.

The Lo Aikanaka took the hint, and the young King became a very frequent guest at the Southerner’s board—or rather, mat table. Some excuse or other would be given to invite the royal guest, such as a challenge to the King to a game of konane (a game like checkers); or a contest of skill in the different athletic and warlike sports would be arranged, and Oahunui would be asked to be the judge, or simply invited to view them. As a matter of course, it would be expected that the King would remain after the sports and partake of food when on friendly visits of this nature. Thus with one excuse or another he spent a great deal of his time with his new subjects and friends.

This went on for some time, until the unaccountable disappearance of so many people began to be connected with the frequent entertainments by the southern chief. Oahunui’s subjects began to hint that their young King had acquired the taste for human flesh at these feasts, and that it was to gratify his unnatural appetite for the horrid dish that he paid his frequent visits to those who were his inferiors, contrary to all royal precedent.

The people’s disapproval of the intimacy of Oahunui with his new friends was expressed more and more openly, and the murmurs of discontent grew loud and deep. His chiefs and high priest became alarmed, and begged him to discontinue his visits, or they would not be answerable for the consequences. The King was thereby forced to heed their admonitions and promised to keep away from Lo’s, and did so for quite a while.

This observation really meant a command to his brother-in-law to go and get the fish, as he was the highest chief present except his two royal nephews, too small to assume such duties.

Lehuanui, Kilikiliula’s husband, accordingly went to Waialua with a few of his own family retainers and a number of those belonging to the King. They found the fish packed thick at the makaha, and were soon busily engaged in scooping out, cleaning, and salting them. It was quite late at night when Lehuanui, fatigued with the labors of the day, lay down to rest. He had been asleep but a short time when he seemed to see his two sons standing by his head. The eldest spoke to him: “Why do you sleep, my father? While you are down here we are being eaten by your brother-in-law, the King. We were cooked and eaten up, and our skulls are now hanging in a net from a branch of the lehua-tree you are called after, and the rest of our bones are tied in a bundle and buried under the tree by the big root running to the setting sun.”

The father was so troubled that he aroused his immediate body servant, and the two left Waialua for home shortly after midnight. They arrived at the royal enclosure at dawn, and went first to the lehua-tree spoken of by the apparition of the child, and on looking up amid the branches, sure enough there dangled two little skulls in a large-meshed fishing-net. Lehuanui then stooped down and scraped away the leaves and loose dirt from the root indicated, and out rolled a bundle of tapa, which on being opened was found to contain the bones of two children. The father reached up for the net containing the skulls, and putting the bundle of tapa in it, tied the net around his neck. The servant stood by, a silent and grieved spectator of a scene whose meaning he fully understood.

Lehuanui stood over him, adze in hand, and called, “O King, where are my children?” The stupefied King only stirred uneasily, and would not, or could not, awake. Lehuanui called him three times, and the sight of the drunken brute, gorged with his flesh and blood, so enraged the father that he struck at Oahunui’s neck with his stone adze, and severed the head from the body at one blow.

The father and husband then strode to his own sleeping-house, where his wife lay asleep with their youngest child in her arms. He aroused her and asked for his boys. The mother could only weep, without answering. He upbraided her for her devotion to her brother, and for having tamely surrendered her children to satisfy the appetite of the inhuman monster. He reminded her that she had equal power with her brother, and that the latter was very unpopular, and had she chosen to resist his demands and called on the retainers to defend her children, the King would have been killed and her children saved.

The poor wife and mother followed, and, flinging herself on her husband, attempted to detain him by clinging to his knees; but the father, crazed by his loss and the thought of her greater affection for a cruel, inhuman brother than for her own children, struck at her with all his might, exclaiming, “Well, then, follow your brother,” and rushed away, followed by all his retainers.

Kilikiliula fell on the side of the stream opposite to where the lehua-tree stood, and is said to have turned to stone. The stone is pointed out to this day, balanced on the hillside of the ravine formed by the stream, and is one of the objects for the Hawaiian sightseer.

The headless body of Oahunui lay where he was killed, abandoned by every one. The story runs that in process of time it also turned to stone, as a witness to the anger of the gods and their detestation of his horrible crime. All the servants who had in any way been concerned, in obedience to royal mandate, in killing and cooking the young princes were, at the death of Kilikiliula, likewise turned to stone, just as they were, in the various positions of crouching, kneeling, or sitting. All the rest of the royal retainers, with the lesser chiefs and guards, fled in fear and disgust from the place, and thus the once sacred royal home of the Oahuan chiefs was abandoned and deserted.

XIV

Ahuula

A Legend of Kanikaniaula and the First Feather Cloak

Mrs. E. M. Nakuina

Eleio was a kukini (trained runner) in the service of Kakaalaneo, King of Maui, several runners being always kept by each king or alii of consequence. These kukinis, when sent on any errand, always took a direct line for their destination, climbing hills with the agility of goats, jumping over rocks and streams, and leaping from precipices. They were so fleet of foot that the common illustration of the fact among the natives was the saying that when a kukini was sent on an errand that would ordinarily take a day and a night, fish wrapped in ki leaves (known as lawalu), if put on the fire on his starting, would not be cooked sufficiently to be turned before he would be back. Being so serviceable to the aliis, kukinis always enjoyed a high degree of consideration, freedom, and immunity from the strict etiquette and unwritten laws of a Hawaiian court. There was hardly anything so valuable in their master’s possession that they could not have it if they wished.

Soon after leaving Olowalu, and as he commenced the ascent of Aalaloloa, he saw a beautiful young woman ahead of him. He naturally hastened his steps, intending to overtake such a charming fellow-traveller; but, do what he would, she kept always just so far ahead of him. Being the fleetest and most renowned kukini of his time, it roused his professional pride to be outrun by a woman, even if only for a short distance; so he was determined to catch her, and he gave himself entirely to that effort. The young woman led him a weary chase over rocks, hills, mountains, deep ravines, precipices, and dark streams, till they came to the Lae (cape) of Hanamanuloa at Kahikinui, beyond Kaupo, when he caught her just at the entrance to a puoa. A puoa was a kind of tower, generally of bamboo, with a platform half-way up, on which the dead bodies of persons of distinction belonging to certain families or classes were exposed to the elements.

When Eleio caught the young woman she turned to him and cried: “Let me live! I am not human, but a spirit, and inside this inclosure is my dwelling.”

She then said: “Let us be friends. In yonder house live my parents and relatives. Go to them and ask for a hog, kapas, some fine mats, and a feather cloak. Describe me to them and tell them that I give all those things to you. The feather cloak is unfinished. It is now only a fathom and a half square, and was intended to be two fathoms. There are enough feathers and netting in the house to finish it. Tell them to finish it for you.” The spirit then disappeared.

Eleio entered the puoa, climbed on to the platform, and saw the dead body of the girl. She was in every way as beautiful as the spirit had appeared to him, and apparently decomposition had not yet set in. He left the puoa and hurried to the house pointed out by the spirit as that of her friends, and saw a woman wailing, whom, from the resemblance, he at once knew to be the mother of the girl; so he saluted her with an aloha. He then said: “I am a stranger here, but I had a travelling companion who guided me to yonder puoa and then disappeared.” At these strange words the woman stopped wailing and called to her husband, to whom she repeated what the stranger had said. The latter then asked: “Does this house belong to you?”

Husband and wife, wondering, answered at once: “It does.”

They both answered: “They are our relatives—uncles, aunts, and cousins to the spirit, who seems to have adopted you either as husband or brother.”

“Will they do your bidding in everything?” he asked.

They answered that they could be relied upon. He directed them to build a large lanai, or arbor, to be entirely covered with ferns, ginger, maile, and ieie—the sweet and odorous foliage greens of the islands. An altar was to be erected at one end of the lanai and appropriately decorated. The order was willingly carried out, men, women, and children working with a will, so that the whole structure was finished in a couple of hours.

After the feast the feather cloak, kapas, and fine mats were brought and displayed to Eleio; and the father said to him: “Take the woman thou hast restored and have her for wife, and remain here with us; you will be our son and will share equally in the love we have for her.”

The father answered: “She is yours to do with as you will. It is as if you had created her, for without you, where would she be now? We only ask this, that you always remember that you have parents and relatives here, and a home whenever you choose.”

Eleio then asked that the feather cloak be finished for him before he returned to his master. All who could work at feathers set about it at once, including the fair girl restored to life; and he now learned that she was called Kanikaniaula.

When it was completed he set out on his return to Lahaina accompanied by the girl, and taking the feather cloak and the remaining awa he had not used in his incantations. They travelled slowly according to the strength of Kanikaniaula, who now in the body could not equal the speed she had displayed as a spirit.

Arriving at Launiupoko, Eleio turned to her and said: “You wait and hide here in the bushes while I go on alone. If by sundown I do not return, I shall be dead. You know the road by which we came; then return to your people. But if all goes well with me I shall be back in a little while.”

When he finally stood before Kakaalaneo, the latter said to him: “How is this? Why are you not cooked alive, as I ordered? How came you to pass my lunas?”

The kukini answered: “It was the wish of the slave to die at the feet of his master, if die he must; but if so, it would be an irreparable loss to you, my master, for I have that with me that will cause your name to be renowned and handed down to posterity.”

“And what is that?” questioned the King.

Eleio then unrolled his bundle and displayed to the astonished gaze of the King and courtiers the glories of a feather cloak, before then unheard of on the islands. Needless to say, he was immediately pardoned and restored to royal favor, and the awa he had brought from Hana was reserved for the King’s special use in his offerings to the gods that evening.

XV

Kaala and Kaaialii

A Legend of Lanai

W. M. Gibson

Bordering upon the land of Kealia, on the southwest coast of Lanai, where was pahonua or place of refuge, are the remains of Kaunolu, an ancient heiau, or temple. Its ruins lie within the mouth of a deep ravine, whose extending banks run out into the sea and form a bold, bluff-bound bay. On the top of the western bank there is a stone-paved platform, called the kuaha. Outside of this, and separated by a narrow alley-way, there runs a broad high wall, which quite encircles the kuaha. Other walls and structures lead down the bank, and the slope is terraced and paved down to the tide-worn stones of the shore.

Inland from the temple there are many remains of the huts of the people of the past. The stone foundations, the inclosures for swine, the round earth ovens, and other traces of a throng of people cover many acres of beach and hillside. This was a town famed as an abode of gods and a refuge for those who fled for their lives; but it drew its people mainly through the fame of its fishing-ground, which swarmed with the varied life of the Hawaiian seas.

To this famed fishing-ground came the great hero of Hawaii to tax the deep, when he had subdued this and the other isles. He came with his fleets of war canoes; with his faithful koas, or fighting men, with his chiefs, and priests, and women, and their trains. He had a house here. Upon the craggy bluff that forms the eastern bank of the bay there is a lonely pa, or wall, and stones of an ancient fort, overlooking the temple, town, and bay.

When this warrior king came to Kaunolu, the islanders thronged to the shore to pay homage to the great chief, and to lay at the feet of their sovereign, as was their wont, the products of the isle: the taro, the yam, the hala, the cocoanut, ohelo, banana, and sweet potato. They piled up a mound of food before the door of the King’s pakui, along with a clamorous multitude of fat poi-fed dogs, and of fathom-long swine.

Besides this tribute of the men, the workers of the land, the women filled the air with the sweet odors of their floral offerings. The maidens were twined from head to waist with leis or wreaths of the na-u, which is Lanai’s own lovely jessamine—a rare gardenia, whose sweet aroma loads the breeze, and leads you to the bush when seeking it afar off. These garlands were fastened to the plaited pili thatch of the King’s pakui; they were placed on the necks of the young warriors, who stood around the chief; and around his royal brows they twined an odorous crown of maile.

In those rude days the island race was sound and clean. The supple round limbs were made bright and strong by the constant bath and the temperate breeze. They were not cumbered with clothing; they wore no long, sweating gowns, but their smooth, shining skins reflected back their sun, which gave them such a rich and dusky charm.

Perhaps such a race cannot long wear all our gear and live. They are best clothed with sea foam, or with the garlands of their groves. How sweetly blend the brown and green; and when young, soft, amber-tinted cheeks, glowing with the crimson tide beneath, are wreathed with the odorous evergreens of the isles, you see the poesy of our kind, and the sweet, wild grace that dwelt in the Eden Paradise.

The sweet Kaala stood mindless of harm, as the playful breeze rustled the long blades of the la-i (dracæna) leaves, hanging like a bundle of green swords from her waist; and as they twirled and fluttered in the air, revealed the soft, rounded form, whose charm filled the eye and heart of one who stood among the braves of the great chief—the heart of the stout young warrior Kaaialii.

Kaaialii, like many a butcher of his kind, was comely to see. With the lion’s heart, he had the lion’s tawny hue. A swart grace beamed beneath his curling brows. He had the small, firm hand to throttle or caress, and eyes full of fire for hate or love; and love’s flame now lit the face of the hero of the bloody leap, and to his great chief he said, “O King of all the isles, let this sweet flower be mine, rather than the valley thou gavest me for my domain.”

Said Kamehameha: “You shall plant the Lanai jessamine in the valley I gave you in Kohala. But there is another who claims our daughter, who is the stout bone-breaker, the scarred Mailou. My spearman of Maunalei can have no fear; and you shall wrestle with him; and let the one whose arms can clasp the girl after the fight carry her to his house, where one kapa shall cover the two.”

The poor maid, the careless gift of savage power, held up her clasped hands with a frightened gesture at the dread name of the breaker of bones; for she had heard how he had sucked the breath of many a dainty bloom like her, then crunched the wilted blossom with sinews of hate, and flung it to the sharks.

The time of contest approached. The King sat under the shade of a leafy kou, the royal tree of the olden time, which has faded away with the chiefs it once did shelter. On the smooth shell floor, covered with the hala mat, stood the bare-limbed braves, stripped to the malo, who with hot eyes of hate shot out their rage of lust and blood, and stretched out their strangling arms. They stood, beating with heavy fists their broad, glossy chests of bronze, and grinning face to face, they glowered their savage wish to kill. Then, with right foot advanced, and right arm uplifted, they pause to shout their gage of battle, and tell to each how they would maim and tear, and kill, and give each other’s flesh for food to some beastly maw.

And now, each drawing near to each, with arms uplifted, and outspread palms with sinewy play, like nervy claws trying to clutch or grip, they seek a chance for a deadly clinch. And swift the scarred child-strangler has sprung with his right to the young spear-man’s throat, who as quickly hooks the lunging arm within the crook of his, and with quick, sledge-like blow breaks the shoulder arm-bone.

“Good!” cried the King. “Our son has the strength of Kanekoa. Now let our daughter soothe the limbs of her lover. Let her stroke his skin, press his joints, and knead his back with the loving grip and touch of the lomilomi. We will have a great bake, with the hula and song; and when the feast is over, then shall they be one.”

A line of women squat down. They crone their wild refrain, praising the one who wins in strife and love. They seize in their right hand the hula gourd, clattering with pebbles inside. They whirl it aloft, they shake, they swing, they strike their palms, they thump the mat; and now with supple joints they twirl their loins, and with heave and twist, and with swing and song, the savage dance goes on.

Kaala stood up with the maiden throng, the tender, guarded gifts of kings. They twined their wreaths, they swayed, and posed their shining arms; and flapping with their hands their leafy skirts, revealed their rounded limbs. This fires the gaze of men, and the hero of the day with flaming eyes, springs and clasps his love, crying as he bears her away: “Thou shalt dance in my hut in Kohala for me alone, forever!”

But a fierce hate stirred the heart of Opunui. His friend was driven over the cliff at Maunalei, and he himself had lived only by crawling at the feet of the slayer. He hid his hate, and planned to save his girl and balk the killer of his people. He said in his heart, “I will hide her in the sea, and none but the fish gods and I shall know where the ever-sounding surf surges over Kaala.”

Now, in the morn, when the girl with ruddy brown cheeks, and glowing with the brightening dawn of love, stood in the doorway of the lodge of her lord, and her face was sparkling with the sheen from the sun, her sire in humble guise stood forth and said, “My child, your mother at Mahana is dying. Pray you, my lord, your love, that you may see her once more before his canoe shall bear you to his great land.”

“Alas!” said the tender child, “since when is Kalani ill? I shall carry to her this large sweet fish speared by my lord; and when I have rubbed her aching limbs, she will be well again with the love touch of her child. Yes, my lord will let me go. Will you not, O Kaaialii; will you not let me go to give my mother a last embrace, and I shall be back again before the moon has twice spanned the bay?”

And the pretty jessamine twined her arms around his neck, and laying her cheek upon his breast said, with upturned tender glances, “O my chief, who gavest me life and sweet joy; thy breath is my breath; thy eyes are my sweetest sight; thy breast is my only resting-place; and when I go away, I shall all the way look back to thee, and go slowly with a backward turned heart; but when I return to thee, I shall have wings to bear me to my lord.”

“Yes, my own bird,” said Kaaialii, “thou must fly, but fly swiftly in thy going as well as in thy coming; for both ways thou fliest to me. When thou art gone I shall spear the tender ohua fish, I shall bake the yam and banana, and I will fill the calabash with sweet water, to feed thee, my heart, when thou shalt come; and thou shalt feed me with thy loving eyes.

And now the stern hero unclasped the weeping girl. His eye was calm, but his shut lips showed the work within of a strong and tender heart of love. He felt the ache of a larger woe than this short parting. He pressed the little head between his palms; he kissed the sobbing lips again and again; he gave one strong clasp, heart to heart, and then quickly strode away.

As Kaala tripped along the stony up-hill path, she glanced backward on her way, to get glimpses of him she loved, and she beheld her chief standing on the topmost rock of the great bluff overhanging the sea. And still as she went and looked, still there he stood; and when on the top of the ridge and about to descend into the great valley, she turned to look her last, still she saw her loving lord looking up to her.

The silent sire and the weeping child soon trod the round, green vale of Palawai. She heeded not now to pluck, as was her wont, the flowers in her path; but thought how she should stop a while, as she came back, to twine a wreath for her dear lord’s neck. And thus this sad young love tripped along with innocent hope by the moody Opunui’s side.

“And thy mother is by the sea, by the bay of Kaumalapau. There she gathers limpets on the rocks. She has dried a large squid for thee. She has pounded some taro and filled her calabash with poi, and would feed thee once more. She is not sick; but had I said she was well, thy lord would not have let thee go; but now thou art on the way to sleep with thy mother by the sea.”

The poor weary girl now trudged on with a doubting heart. She glanced sadly at her dread sire’s moody eye. Silent and sore she trod the stony path leading down to the shore, and when she came to the beach with naught in view but the rocks and sea, she said with a bursting heart, “O my father, is the shark to be my mother, and I to never see my dear chief any more?”

“Hear the truth,” cried Opunui. “Thy home for a time is indeed in the sea, and the shark shall be thy mate, but he shall not harm thee. Thou goest down where the sea god lives, and he shall tell thee that the accursed chief of the bloody leap shall not carry away any daughter of Lanai. When Kaaialii has sailed for Kohala then shall the chief of Olowalu come and bring thee to earth again.”

See yon advancing billow! The south wind sends it surging along. It rears its combing, whitening crest, and with mighty, swift-rushing volume of angry green sea, it strikes the mouth of the cave; it drives and packs the pent-up air within, and now the tightened wind rebounds, and driving back the ramming sea, bursts forth with a roar as the huge spout of sea leaps upward to the sky, and then comes curving down in gentle silver spray.

The fearful child now clasped the knees of her savage sire. “Not there, O father,” she sobbed and wailed. “The sea snake (the puhi) has his home in the cave, and he will bite and tear me, and ere I die, the crawling crabs will creep over me and pick out my weeping eyes. Alas, O father, better give me to the shark, and then my cry and moan will not hurt thine ear.”

Opunui clasped the slender girl with one sinewy arm, and with a bound he leaped into the frothed and fretted pool below. Downward with a dolphin’s ease he moved, and with his free arm beating back the brine, moved along the ocean bed into the sea cave’s jagged jaws; and then stemming with stiffened sinew the wind-driven tide, he swam onward till he struck a sunless beach and then stood inside the cave, whose mouth is beneath the sea.

The poor hapless girl sank down upon this gloomy shore and cried, clinging to the kanaka’s knee: “O father, beat out my brains with this jagged stone, and do not let the eel twine around my neck, and trail with a loathsome, slimy, creeping crawl over my body before I die. Oh! the crabs will pick and tear me before my breath is gone.”

“Listen,” said Opunui. “Thou shalt go back with me to the warm sunny air. Thou shalt tread again the sweet-smelling flowery vale of Palawai, and twine thy neck with wreaths of scented jessamine, if thou wilt go with me to the house of the chief of Olowalu and there let thy bloody lord behold thee wanton with thy love in another chief’s arms.”

“Never,” shouted the lover of Kaaialii, “never will I meet any clasp of love but that of my own chief. If I cannot lay my head again upon his breast, I will lay it in death upon these cold stones. If his arm shall never again draw me to his heart, then let the eel twine my neck and let him tear away my cheeks rather than that another beside my dear lord shall press my face.”

And Kaaialii stood upon the bluff, looking up to the hillside path by which his love had gone, long after her form was lost to view in the interior vales. And after slight sleep upon his mat, and walking by the shore that night, he came at dawn and climbed the bluff again to watch his love come down the hill. And as he gazed he saw a leafy skirt flutter in the wind, and his heart fluttered to clasp his little girl; but as a curly brow drew near, his soul sank to see it was not his love, but her friend Ua (rain) with some sad news upon her face.

With hot haste and eager asking eyes does the love-lorn chief meet the maiden messenger, and cries, “Why does Kaala delay in the valley? Has she twined wreaths for another’s neck for me to break? Has a wild hog torn her? Or has the anaana prayer of death struck her heart, and does she lie cold on the sod of Mahana? Speak quickly, for thy face kills me, O Ua!”

“Kaala lost? The blood of my heart is gone!” He hears no more! The fierce chief, hot with baffled passion, strikes madly at the air, and dashes away, onward up the stony hill; and upward with his stout young savage thews, he bounds along without halt or slack of speed till he reaches the valley’s rim, then rushes down its slopes.

He courses over its bright green plains. He sees in the dusty path some prints that must be those of the dear feet he follows now. His heart feels a fresh bound; he feels neither strain of limb nor scantness of breath, and, searching as he runs, he descries before him in the plain the deceitful sire alone.

“Opunui,” he cries, “give me Kaala, or thy life!” The stout, gray kanaka looks to see the face of flame and the outstretched arms, and stops not to try the strength of his own limbs, or to stay for any parley, but flies across the valley, along the very path by which the fierce lover came; and with fear to spur him on, he keeps well before his well blown foe.

For this the hunted sire strains his fast failing nerve; and the youth with a shout quickens his still tense limbs. He is within a spear’s length; he stretches out his arms. Ha, old man! he has thy throat within his grip. But no, the greased neck slips the grasp; the wretch leaps for his dear life, he gains the sacred wall, he bounds inside, and the furious foe is stopped by the staves of priests.

The baffled chief lies prone in the dust, and curses the gods and the sacred taboo. After a time he is led away to his hut by friends; and then the soothing hands of Ua rub and knead the soreness out of his limbs. And when she has set the calabash of poi before him along with the relishing dry squid, and he has filled himself and is strong again, he will not heed any entreaty of chief or friends; not even the caressing lures of Ua, who loves him; but he says, “I will go and seek Kaala; and if I find her not, I die.”

And now he runs on over the lands of Paomai, through the wooded dells of the gorge of Kaiholena, and onward across Kaunolu and Kalulu, until he reaches the head spring of sacred Kealia called Waiakekua; and here he gathered bananas and ohelo berries; and as he stayed his hunger with the pleasant wild fruit, he beheld a white-haired priest of Kaunolu, bearing a calabash of water.

“Son of the stout spear! I know thou seekest the sweet Flower of Palawai; and no man but her sire has seen her resting-place; but I know that thou seekest in vain in the groves, and in the ravines, and in this mountain. Opunui is a great diver and has his dens in the sea. He leaves the shore when no one follows, and he sleeps with the fish gods, and thou wilt find thy love in some cave of the rock-bound southern shore.”

The chief quickly turns his face again seaward. He descends the deep shaded pathway of the ravine of Kaunolu. He winds his way through shaded thickets of ohia, sandalwood, the yellow mamani, the shrub violet, and the fragrant na-u. He halted not as he reached the plain of Palawai, though the ever overhanging canopy of cloud that shades this valley of the mountain cooled his weary feet. These upper lands were still, and no voice was heard by the pili grass huts, and the maika balls and the wickets of the bowling alley of Palawai stood untouched, because all the people were with the great chief by the shore of Kaunolu; and Kaaialii thought that he trod the flowery pathway of the still valley alone.

The weary hero only stayed his steps when he reached the brow of the great bluff of Palikaholo. The sea broke many hundred feet below where he stood. The gulls and screaming boatswain birds sailed in mid-air between his perch and the green waves. He looked up the coast to his right, and saw the lofty, wondrous sea columns of Honopu. He looked to the left, and beheld the crags of Kalulu, but nowhere could he see any sign which should tell him where his love was hid away.

His strong, wild nature was touched by the distant sob and moan of the surf. It sang a song for his sad, savage soul. It roused up before his eyes other eyes, and lips, and cheeks, and clasps of tender arms. His own sinewy ones he now stretched out wildly in the mocking air. He groaned, and sobbed, and beat his breast as he cried out, “Kaala! O Kaala! Where art thou? Dost thou sleep with the fish gods, or must I go to join thee in the great shark’s maw?”

As the sad hero thought of this dread devourer of many a tender child of the isles, he hid his face with his hands,—looking with self-torture upon the image of his soft young love, crunched, bloody and shrieking, in the jaws of the horrid god of the Hawaiian seas; and as he thought and waked up in his heart the memories of his love, he felt that he must seek her even in her gory grave in the sea.

He sees with his burning eyes the lines of the sweet form that twines with tender touch around his soul. He sees the waving hair, that mingles on his neck with his own swart curls. He sees,—he thinks he sees,—in the leap and play of sun-tinted spray, his love, his lost Kaala; and with hot foot he rushes downward to the shore.

He stands upon the point of rock whence Opunui sprang. He feels the throb beneath his feet of the beating, bounding tide. He sees the fret and foam of the surging gulf below the leaping spray, and is wetted by the shore-driven mist. He sees all of this wild, working water, but he does not see Kaala.

And yet he peers into this mad surf for her he seeks. The form that he has seen still leads him on. He will brave the sea god’s wrath; and he fain would cool his brow of flame in the briny bath. He thinks he hears a voice sounding down within his soul; and cries, “Where art thou, O Kaala? I come, I come!” And as he cries, he springs into the white, foaming surge of this ever fretted sea.

The King was grieved to hear from Ua of the loss of his young chief. But the priest Papalua standing near, said: “O Chief of Heaven, and of all the isles; there where Kaaialii has leaped is the sea den of Opunui, and as thy brave spearman can follow the turtle to his deep sea nest, he will see the mouth of the cave, and in it, I think, he will find his lost love, Kaala, the flower of Palawai.”

At this Ua roused up. She called to her brother Keawe, and laying hold on him, pulled him toward the shore, crying out, “To thy canoe, quick! I will help thee to paddle to Kaumalapau.” For thus she could reach the cave sooner than by the way of the bluffs. And the great chief also following, sprang into his swiftest canoe, and helping as was his wont, plunged his blade deep into the swelling tide, and bounded along by the frowning shore of Kumoku.

At first he saw not, but his ears took in at once a sad and piteous moan,—a sweet, sad moan for his hungry ear, of the voice of her he sought. And there upon the cold, dank, dismal floor he could dimly see his bleeding, dying love. Quickly clasping and soothing her, he lifted her up to bear her to the upper air; but the moans of his poor weak Kaala told him she would be strangled in passing through the sea.

And as he sat down, and held her in his arms, she feebly spoke: “O my chief, I can die now! I feared that the fish gods would take me, and I should never see thee more. The eel bit me, and the crabs crawled over me, and when I dared the sea to go and seek thee, my weak arms could not fight the tide; I was torn against the jaws of the cave, and this and the fear of the gods have so hurt me, that I must die.”

“Not so, my love,” said the sad and tearful chief. “I am with thee now. I give thee the warmth of my heart. Feel my life in thine. Live, O my Kaala, for me. Come, rest and be calm, and when thou canst hold thy breath I will take thee to the sweet air again, and to thy valley, where thou shalt twine wreaths for me.” And thus with fond words and caresses he sought to soothe his love.

Then, breathing moans and murmurs of love, she lay for a time weak and fainting upon her lover’s breast, with her arms drooping by her side. But all at once she clasps his neck, and with cheek to cheek, she clings, she moans, she gasps her last throbs of love and passes away; and her poor torn corse lies limp within the arms of the love-lorn chief.

As he cries out in his woe there are other voices in the cave. First he hears the voice of Ua speaking to him in soothing tones as she stoops to the body of her friend; and then in a little while he hears the voice of his great leader calling to him and bidding him stay his grief. “O King of all the Seas,” said Kaaialii, standing up and leaving Kaala to the arms of Ua, “I have lost the flower thou gavest me; it is broken and dead, and I have no more joy in life.”

“What!” said Kamehameha, “art thou a chief, and wouldst cast away life for a girl? Here is Ua, who loves thee; she is young and tender like Kaala. Thou shalt have her, and more, if thou dost want. Thou shalt have, besides the land I gave thee in Kohala, all that thou shalt ask of Lanai. Its great valley of Palawai shall be thine; and thou shalt watch my fishing grounds of Kaunolu, and be the Lord of Lanai.”

The dead chief lay by the side of his love, and Ua wailed over both. Then the King ordered that the two lovers should lie side by side on a ledge of the cave; and that they should be wrapped in tapas which should be brought down through the sea in tight bamboos. Then there was great wailing for the chief and the maid who lay in the cave; and thus wailed Ua:

XVI

The Tomb of Puupehe

A Legend of Lanai

From “The Hawaiian Gazette”

One of the interesting localities of tradition, famed in Hawaiian song and story of ancient days, is situate at the southwestern point of the island of Lanai, and known as the Kupapau o Puupehe, or Tomb of Puupehe. At the point indicated, on the leeward coast of the island, may be seen a huge block of red lava about eighty feet high and some sixty feet in diameter, standing out in the sea, and detached from the mainland some fifty fathoms, around which centres the following legend.

Observed from the overhanging bluff that overlooks Puupehe, upon the summit of this block or elevated islet, would be noticed a small inclosure formed by a low stone wall. This is said to be the last resting-place of a Hawaiian girl whose body was buried there by her lover Makakehau, a warrior of Lanai.

The Hawaiian brave feared that the comeliness of his dear captive would cause her to be coveted by the chiefs of the land. His soul yearned to keep her all to himself. He said: “Let us go to the clear waters of Kalulu. There we will fish together for the kala and the aku, and there I will spear the turtle. I will hide you, my beloved, forever in the cave of Malauea. Or, we will dwell together in the great ravine of Palawai, where we will eat the young of the uwau bird, and we will bake them in ki leaf with the sweet pala fern root. The ohelo berries of the mountains will refresh my love. We will drink of the cool waters of Maunalei. I will thatch a hut in the thicket of Kaohai for our resting-place, and we shall love on till the stars die.

Makakehau left his love one day in the cave of Malauea while he went to the mountain spring to fill the water-gourds with sweet water. This cavern yawns at the base of the overhanging bluff that overtops the rock of Puupehe. The sea surges far within, but there is an inner space which the expert swimmer can reach, and where Puupehe had often rested and baked the honu> or sea turtle, for her absent lover.

This was the season for the kona, the terrific storm that comes up from the equator and hurls the ocean in increased volume upon the southern shores of the Hawaiian Islands. Makakehau beheld from the rock springs of Pulou the vanguard of a great kona,—scuds of rain and thick mist, rushing with a howling wind, across the valley of Palawai. He knew the storm would fill the cave with the sea and kill his love. He flung aside his calabashes of water and ran down the steep, then across the great valley and beyond its rim he rushed, through the bufferings of the storm, with an agonized heart, down the hill slope to the shore.

The next day, fishermen heard the lamentation of Makakehau, and the women of the valley came down and wailed over Puupehe. They wrapped her in bright new kapa. They placed upon her garlands of the fragrant na-u (gardenia). They prepared her for burial, and were about to place her in the burial ground of Manele, but Makakehau prayed that he might be left alone one night more with his lost love. And he was left as he desired.

The next day no corpse nor weeping lover were to be found, till after some search Makakehau was seen at work piling up stones on the top of the lone sea tower. The wondering people of Lanai looked on from the neighboring bluff, and some sailed around the base of the columnar rock in their canoes, still wondering, because they could see no way for him to ascend, for every face of the rock is perpendicular or overhanging. The old belief was, that some akua, kanekoa, or keawe-manhili (deities), came at the cry of Makakehau and helped him with the dead girl to the top.

XVII

Ai Kanaka

A Legend of Molokai

Rev. A. O. Forbes

On the leeward side of the island of Molokai, a little to the east of Kaluaaha lies the beautiful valley of Mapulehu, at the mouth of which is located the heiau, or temple, of Iliiliopae, which was erected by direction of Ku-pa, the Moi, to look directly out upon the harbor of Ai-Kanaka, now known as Pukoo. At the time of its construction, centuries ago, Kupa was the Moi, or sovereign, of the district embracing the Ahupuaas, or land divisions, of Mapulehu and Kaluaaha, and he had his residence in this heiau which was built by him and famed as the largest throughout the whole Hawaiian group.,

Some evil-minded persons heard Kamalo’s boys drumming on the Kaeke and immediately went and told Kupa that the priest’s children were reviling him in the grossest manner on his own drum. This so enraged the King that he ordered his servants to put them to death. Forthwith they were seized and murdered; whereupon Kamalo, their father, set about to secure revenge on the King.

“Death or life,” answered he, “it is all the same to me if I can only gain my revenge for my poor boys who have been killed.” He then related his story, and his wanderings, adding that he had come to make his appeal to Kauhuhu and cared not for his own life.

“Well,” said they to him, “Kauhuhu is away now fishing, but if he finds you here when he returns, our lives as well as yours will pay the forfeit. However, we will see what we can do to help you. We must hide you hereabouts, somewhere, and when he returns trust to circumstances to accomplish your purpose.”

Accordingly, after waiting a while, the eight heavy rollers appeared, breaking successively against the rocks; and sure enough, as the eighth dissolved into foam, the great shark god came ashore. Immediately assuming human form, he began snuffing about the place, and addressing Waka and Moo, his kahus, said to them, “There is a man here.” They strenuously denied the charge and protested against the possibility of their allowing such a desecration of the premises. But he was not satisfied. He insisted that there was a man somewhere about, saying, “I smell him, and if I find him you are dead men; if not, you escape.” He examined the premises over and over again, never suspecting the rubbish heap, and was about giving up the search when, unfortunately, Kamalo’s pig sent forth a squeal which revealed the poor fellow’s hiding-place.

Now came the dread moment. The enraged Kauhuhu seized Kamalo with both hands and, lifting him up with the intention of swallowing him, according to his shark instinct, had already inserted the victim’s head and shoulders into his mouth before he could speak.

“O Kauhuhu, before you eat me, hear my petition; then do as you like.”

Kamalo then rehearsed his grievances and his travels in search for revenge, and presented his pig to the god.

Compassion arose in the breast of Kauhuhu, and he said, “Had you come for any other purpose I would have eaten you, but as your cause is a sacred one I espouse it, and will revenge it on Kupa the King. You must, however, do all that I tell you. Return to the heiau of Puukahi, at the foot of the pali, and take the priest Kahiwakaapuu on your back, and carry him up the pali over to the other side of the island, all the way to your home at Kaluaaha. Erect a sacred fence all around your dwelling-place, and surround it with the sacred flags of white kapa. Collect black hogs by the lau (four hundred), red fish by the lau, white fowls by the lau, and bide my coming. Wait and watch till you see a small cloud the size of a man’s hand arise, white as snow, over the island of Lanai. That cloud will enlarge as it makes its way across the channel against the wind until it rests on the mountain peaks of Molokai back of Mapulehu Valley. Then a rainbow will span the valley from side to side, whereby you will know that I am there, and that your time of revenge has come. Go now, and remember that you are the only man who ever ventured into the sacred precincts of the great Kauhuhu and returned alive.”