IX
THE SPOUTING CAVE OF LANAI
Readers of Byron will remember, in his poem entitled, “The Island,” the description of a wonderful cavern at Toobanai, the only entrance to which was under the sea. The way by which Neuha guided Torquil to its safe retreat is described as follows:
The poet admits having found the original of his submarine cave in Mariner’s “Account of the Tonga Islands,” taking advantage of the license allowed to poets to transplant it to the scene of his poem.
Probably he did not know that there existed in the Hawaiian group a cavern similar to that which he describes, to which attaches a story far more romantic than that of the loves of Torquil and Neuha.
The Puhio-kaala, or Spouting Cave of Kaala, is on the rocky coast of the little island of Lanai, near Kaumalapau Bay. Down below the rocky bluff is that “refuge submarine” where “Nature played with the stalactites, and built herself a chapel of the seas.”
The entrance is marked by the vortex of a whirlpool, from which a column of foam rises up when the tide runs out. He who dared to venture the perils of the entrance would, on gaining his footing below, find himself beneath a “self-born Gothic canopy,”
The pleasure of the diver, however, would be rudely disturbed when he found the cave already occupied by millions of cold-blooded, slimy, shelly, stinging, dank and noisome creatures of the deep. Once, legend says, it was inhabited by the great lizard god, Moalii, but Ukanipo, the shark god, threatened to block up the entrance with rocks if he did not move. Thereupon the cave was left to its present smaller, but no less uncanny tenants.
These were quite sufficient to prevent frequent visits to the cave, though in truth there were few bold and skillful enough to shoot through the whirlpool into its sunless depths, even if inclined.
At the present time Lanai has but a few hundred inhabitants at most, although one of the loveliest islands of the group. But when, over a hundred years ago, Kamehameha, with his court, paid it a brief visit to enjoy an interval of rest and refreshment, he found no fewer than five or six thousand people on the beach to welcome him. Rich and numerous were the presents brought, and among those who offered their gifts was Kaala, “the flower of Lanai,” who strewed flowers no lovelier than herself in the conqueror’s path.
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: