Hawaiian idylls of love and death

The chiefs left the council chamber of Kahahana moody and displeased. Such a proposition as they had heard had never before been suggested by a king of Oahu. The wiles of Kahekili, the moi of Maui, they knew. Like a greedy octopus, he was ever stretching out his tentacles to lay hold on everything within reach, and his eyes had for many a long year been on the coastland of Kualoa. But that Kahahana, their own feudal lord, the king who had but recently been installed with extraordinary solemnities and the sacrifice of an unwonted number of victims, the king whom they were expecting to bring back the glorious days of Peleioholani, should propose such a cession was far more than weakness; it was imbecility and treason. They gazed in imagination upon the beautiful amphitheatre of Koolau Bay, stretching in a perfect semi-circle from Kualoa Point to Kaneohe, counted up the revenue in whalebone and whale’s teeth it was wont to produce and at once, in a fierce kind of unanimity, overrode the proposal of the king. They then despatched, in the name of the whole college of the alii, a rejoinder to the king of Maui, such as would stir up that terrible old warrior even from his awa-drinking to order forth the lunapais with the chant of war. However, better war than disgrace, they felt—better even defeat, better to prostrate themselves before Kahekili with the ignominious appeal of the vanquished, “E make paha, e ola paha—iluna ke alo? ilalo ke alo?” than tamely to give away the choicest of their lands. Let the country be parcelled out after defeat, and not before!

Such had been the patriotic advice of the priest Kaopulupulu, who had long stood near the throne of Oahu, a support to its kings, learned in the traditions of kingship and in the lore of the gods, skilled not only to read the clouds and the auguries, but also to understand the hearts of mortals and of spirits. The white hair which descended over his dusky shoulders covered a brain whose like for experience and sagacity Oahu did not contain from Maena to Makapuu.

So the chiefs departed to send their message, leaving Kahahana in no enviable mood, reclining on the lanai. Truth to say, he was ashamed of himself and had made his proposal not over willingly. He had been brought up with Kahekili on the island of Maui, had adventured with him in the wars against Hawaii, their spears had drunk blood together, nay, they had become almost one in family ties, for he had taken the half-sister of Kahekili for his bride. Thus, in making himself the tool of Kahekili, the weak and credulous chief had acted without considering the aspects his proposal would present to the rest of the alii. Now, ill at ease, bitter and angry, as well as ashamed, he could only anticipate what would be the wrath of Kahekili and what degree of revenge he would plan.

Kahahana was right in one particular at least. Kahekili, when he received the news, went almost stark mad with anger. His followers whispered one to another that he had become “hehena,” and quailed before him, or, if possible, kept themselves afar from the royal enclosure. At length, however, the paroxysm passed and counsel took the place of passion. There sits Kahekili, a mighty man yet, in spite of his years, emaciated somewhat through the drinking of awa, but terrible to look on. One side of his body was tattooed almost black, the other retained its natural hue, his eyes were somewhat heavy, yet now and again lustrous with his thoughts. Long had he dreamed of being the possessor of Kualoa. It was his “Naboth’s Vineyard.” Here were ivory and whalebone enough to make him rich and envied. He had deemed the fool Kahahana sufficiently his creature and vassal not to gainsay him in such a matter as this. Now, wherefore should he not pronounce the word and send out the black maika-stone to the chiefs for war?

But other and craftier counsels prevailed. Why go to the trouble of war if he could break the power of Oahu some easier way? Oahu was strong and formidable in battle array, thanks to the counsel of the priest Kaopulupulu. The issue of conflict on the field was by no means assured while he remained by Kahahana’s side. Kaopulupulu removed, the fruit of Oahu would fall from the tree into his hands. Were it not better to proceed craftily? Fortunately, he had in his court the younger brother of Kaopulupulu, whose jealousy of the high-priest of Oahu was notorious, and with him ere the day was done, had Kahekili speech and agreement.

The days went by and Kahahana began to lose his uneasy mind. Kahekili had taken his rebuff much more readily than of wont, and there was no sign of hostile preparation or intent. Only Kaopulupulu persisted in urging the king to beware and remain ready for a visit from Kahekili’s flotilla of canoes at any hour of the day or night.

One day, nearly two weeks from the time the cession of Kualoa had been rejected, he was on his way to the royal lanai to urge a doubling of the coast watch, when, greatly to his surprise, as he went in to stand before the king, there went out Nanoa, his brother, who had come with messages from Kahekili. Kaopulupulu liked not the look which Nanoa cast upon him as he passed, but shame withheld him from mistrusting so close a kinsman, and he replied heartily to the other’s formal salutation. But when he stood before the king, Kahahana looked blackly on him and gave him no such greeting as had been customary. Kaopulupulu misdoubted in his heart that some evil was afoot, and presently learned from the king that he was adjudged a traitor to Oahu. Had he not, so the charge ran, conspired to aid Kahekili to the overlordship of Oahu? But for the desire of the Maui king to be true to his old roofmate and kinsman by marriage, the treachery had remained unrevealed.

Kaopulupulu remained awhile silent, sorrowful, and in bitter anger before the king. “I scorn,” he said, “to defend myself with words—I whose deeds ought to speak louder than the calumnies of Kahekili. Yet is he laboring to overcome with guile those whom he fears to meet with the war-spear. Beware of Kahekili, but if ye will heed me not, suffer me to depart with my only son to Waianae to till my fields. Time shall be the judge between us.”

The king, who was scarce prepared as yet to take upon himself the risk of an arrest, did not withhold his permission, and presently Kaopulupulu might have been seen with bowed head, led by the hand of his only son, and followed at a little distance by his amazed retainers, wending his way slowly to Waianae. Hither he arrived just as the rising moon had kindled its beacon on the mountain-tops.

That very night, in spite of his dejection, he tattooed himself and all his followers upon the knee, in token of loyalty to Kahahana.

“He eha nui no, he nui loa lakuu aloha!”[A] said the faithful slaves as the sharp instrument of fish-bones pierced their skin.

“Soon, I foresee,” answered Kaopulupulu, “you will tattoo yourselves not for the living, but for the dead.” And all the household uttered their loud “auwe.”

And now followed lamentable days for Oahu. The king, distrusted and distrustful, held few parleys with his chiefs: more and more careless grew the guards along the coast; fewer and fewer the appeals to the gods. In the heiaus the shrines stood neglected. A few tattered shreds of clothing washed by the rain and bleached by the sun were all that was left of their once gaudy array of idols, while piles of broken calabashes and cocoanut shells, with rotten wreaths of flowers and putrid masses of meat, formed unsightly heaps in the sacred enclosures. Men’s hearts seemed to have gone to sleep and even the old warriors allowed their spears to rust, and to dream only of the past.

Into the midst of this doleful time came the news that Kahekili was preparing to muster his canoes on the beach of Lahaina, but Kahahana, so far from allowing the tidings to reveal to his heart the craft of the Maui chief and his emissary, kept still within his bosom the poisoned shaft and muttered:

“Kaopulupulu predicted this. Surely the priest is skillful to ensure the fulfillment of his own predictions.”

So his anger waxed against the aged priest and he sent canoes with his ilamoku, or executioner, to Waianae. In his frenzy it seemed better to slay one who had been his friend than to sit still and await the oncoming of Kahekili.

Kaopulupulu and his son were fishing along the shore when the boat hove in sight, and, as it were, by the afflatus of the gods, the priest knew that it was an errand of blood.

“Farewell,” he said, “my son, blood of my blood. A little while we shall wander apart, but Lono will see and hear, and will not allow death to sever us long, since we are true kin!”

Nevertheless, he went courteously to the landing-place to meet the men and asked them whence they had come. But they answered roughly and straightway seized the boy, who cried piteously for his life. Out into the canoe they bore him, and then hurled him headlong into the water between the boat and the reef. When he tried to swim they smote him on the head with the paddles and with clubs, till the waves were reddened with blood and the sharks scented their prey afar. Then upon the shore stood Kaopulupulu, his white hair streaming in the breeze, and cried aloud under the inspiration of the gods:

“It is better to sleep in the sea, for from the sea comes the means of life.”

Men mused much upon this saying in the aftertime, but understood it not till many years had flown. The enemies of Kaopulupulu said: “It is a proof of his conspiracy with Kahekili,” but all men afterwards interpreted it of the coming of Kamehameha, the overlord of the Eight Islands, from the sea.

Kahahana was, however, not content with the death of the son, and when he had allowed Kaopulupulu some space for the torment of grief, he sent again the death-boat for the priest.

So Kaopulupulu was brought, not all unwillingly, to Puulio, and there in the presence of the king for whom he would willingly have died to preserve him from the impending storm, he was slain by the club of the ilamoku. All men wept to see such sacrilege committed, as the old man stood up for his death-blow before the king. Once more the prophetic fire glowed in his eye-sockets, and once more he cried aloud so that all the assembly might hear:

“Farewell, my lord, O king! Alas! that I should in my death foreshadow thine own. When the fatal club whirls behind thee, then shalt thou know the faith of Kaopulupulu to Oahu and to thee!” A moment after he fell face foremost and was dragged away with a hook to the temple.

Great is the commotion on the beach of Waikiki. The echoes of Diamond Head are rudely awakened with the shouts of warriors. The forces of Maui have swept over from Lahaina and have effected their landing almost without opposition from Kahahana. The Oahu forces, undisciplined and demoralized, are driven helter-skelter to the valleys, and Kahekili may solace himself ere long with Kualoa, and all Koolau to boot.

Kahahana fled to the mountains around Ewa and here for nearly two years was hidden, fed and clothed by his compassionate subjects. Then, having learned how lovely it is to rely upon fidelity, such fidelity as he now knew to have been that of his slandered priest, Kaopulupulu, he learned in his turn also how bitter it is to be betrayed.

His wife’s brother, Kehuamanoha, yielded up the secret of his hiding-place to Kahekili, and he was dragged by the order of the conqueror from Ewa to Waikiki, to stand in the presence of his crafty antagonist.

Thus in all points Nemesis overtook him, and when he died a sacrifice to the gods at Waikiki, he cried out for the vengeful deities to wash out in his blood the wretchedness of his unfaithfulness and allow him to meet the manes of Kaopulupulu in peace.

But a man’s folly, so far as its consequences are concerned, does not end with repentance, and heavily did Kahekili lay his yoke upon Oahu. Men, women and children were butchered, the streams were piled high with the dead, and ran scarlet to the sea, and one of the Maui chiefs built a house at Lapakea with the bones of the slain.